Are You In?
by tronball
Summary: 7 years after the war, Harry and Ginny are hiding in Muggle London while Draco is stranded America.  What are they hiding from?  M for domestic abuse, sex, and language  DracoGinny  HarryNeville  PercyHermione
1. Introducing a Muggle Family

A/N Hello ducks. I'm writing this without a terribly clear direction, more of a way to clear my head than anything else. I'll take suggestions and all that jazz if you want to see something or if you feel like I'm running out of intrigue and mystique. I'm really anal retentive about grammar, spelling, and mechanics, so if you see any errors, feel free to call me on it and slap me with a dictionary. Ouch, on second thought, maybe not.

Chapter One: Introducing a Muggle Family

**Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess and a dashing prince. They grew up as friends, and later became engaged. They had an exquisite wedding, several gorgeous children, and never fought a day in their lives. Their story was perfect. This is not one of those stories.**

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"Oh for the love of-" Ginny snorted, juggling the files in her arm as the heel of her shoe refused to remove itself from a crack in the pavement. Growling to herself, she slipped her foot out of the shoe and bent down to retrieve the troublesome item. 'I don't have time for this,' she thought, resuming her trot into the foyer of her office building. She saw a dark head of hair emerge from the men's room a few paces to her left and sighed in relief.

"Had too much coffee this morning, Harry?" she called, moving to catch up.  
"Ginny don't laugh," Harry Potter moaned, running a hand through his messier than usual mane. "I was so tired this morning that I downed the whole fucking pot before I could consider the consequences…I've been to the loo every bloody thirty minutes."  
"Well you'd better control yourself, the partners' meeting is in two minutes and we have three pitches this morning," Ginny joked, not for the first time feeling happy that she didn't party. At the thought her lips turned down slightly; muggle partying always left her with a sour taste in her throat. As did wizarding partying, for that matter.

"Oh stop, you harpy," Harry grunted. "I didn't laugh at you when you went around for a whole day with two different shoes on!"

"YOU-" Genny started to bellow, but then stopped herself when other people started to look over. "You swore you would never bring that up again, you traitor!" she hissed as Harry smirked at her. "Who do you think you are, exactly?"

"I'm the Boy Who Lived, or didn't you get the memo?"

"Prat."

"Cow."

"WHAT?"

"Oh and look at that, we've just arrived at the meeting. Looks like I got the last word, Ginny." Ginny grumbled under her breath as she paused to ensure that her hair and clothes were in place before taking a breath and following Harry inside.

Pushing open the glass doors that led to the conference room, Ginny paused to reflect on the past five years of her life as a muggle. The investment firm, the flat she lived in with Harry, her son Thom, they all seemed so solid that she couldn't remember what life had been before.

"Ah, Miss Weasley," she heard a booming voice call out and she forced a smile. "One of our most industrious principals!"

"Thank you, sir."

"Well, have a seat, Miss Weasley. Oh and hello Mr. Potter. We're just about to get started here."

Ginny organized her folders and started her laptop, looking at her boss, the incorrigible Jack Yorke, one of the two partners at the Yorke Ramsay Venture Capital Fund. Jack was a big man with a large stomach and a larger personality. He was like the father of the firm, quite jolly, particularly at company parties, and could usually be seen wearing a smile. There were many people who took him at face value, and those were the people who eventually flushed out of the investment industry. Part of Ginny wondered if Jack's "Jolly Giant" demeanor was nothing more than a façade; the man was shrewd and would test any entrepreneur thoroughly before deciding to enter negotiations. He may have taken Ginny under his wing and openly praised her, but it was only because she had earned it.

"What's the first pitch of the day, Potter?" the other partner, Michael Ramsay asked.

"A bloke from London who wants to revolutionize the online music scene…" Harry continued, but Ginny didn't listen. She had helped him write up the briefing, knowing that Ramsay would expect both the main principals to know the details. Michael was Jack's opposite; a rather quiet, but powerful man. He had made millions in venture capital, and while he never seemed to brag about his success or even speak about his personal wealth, he was always being written about on some economic blog. Ginny herself liked Ramsay, he was always very focused and saw her as a principal, not a woman. As one of the only women in the business, Ginny was all too used to being differentiated. 'As if having a penis makes you smarter,' Ginny thought to herself, smirking. She returned her attention to the meeting, diligently taking notes on the business propositions.

"Harry, would you just-"

"Ginny! Put it down, I can handle it!"

"You can not, just look at what a mess you're making!"

"Well I would have been fine if your bloody son hadn't-"

"My son? I'll thank you to remember he's yours too!"

"Not really, it's more like you're sharing him with me, don't you think?"

Ginny rolled her eyes in frustration, snatching the cup away from Harry and deftly fitting the top on. Harry watched her ruefully, holding Thom in his arms as the toddler snoozed away, despite the argument. Ginny's frustration melted as she looked at her child.

"Look at my baby! Hello Thom! You look just like your mummy!"

Harry snickered, earning a glare from his best friend. "Honestly, Gin. And he looks nothing _like_ you, he's adopted remember?" Ginny giggled, rescuing Thom from Harry. "And how long has it been? Two years, and you're still talking down to him? Will you still be cooing over him when he goes off to-" he suddenly stopped talking and looked down.

Ginny sighed. "It's fine Harry, I slip up too sometimes. We knew it would be like this when I decided to adopt a muggle baby, not a wizarding one. And it's fine. I love him anyway, and you do too, even if he doesn't go to Hogwarts."

"Of course!" Harry said, putting on a shocked expression, one hand to his heart. More seriously, he said, "Gin, you know that I don't care that Thom is a muggle. Hell, _we're_ muggles now!"

"Do you ever regret it?" Ginny asked softly. "D'you ever want to go back, just pretend like we never ran off, blame it on childish emotions after the war?"

"'Course not," Harry said loyally. "You've always been there for me, always. Besides, I don't have a whole lot to go back to. Here, I have you, I have Thom, I have a great job, and I finally have some peace." Seeing that Ginny still looked dejected, Harry scooted closer and nudged her with his elbow. "Hey, remember streaking through that park in the nuddy pants yelling 'God save the Queen!' last Christmas? Think we could have gotten away with that in the wizarding world?"

Ginny's face picked up a little. "Yeah, I can just see what Rita Skeeter would've written: **The Boy Who Lived Goes Insane, Tears Clothes Off in a Fit of Madness**." She giggled, rocking Thom so he wouldn't wake up. "Thanks for coming with me, Harry. I reckon I wouldn't have made it without you."

"Don't mention it," Harry waved her off. "It's not like I'm not better off here. Or did you forget, 'gay' doesn't exist in the wizarding world? And sure, it's not all- all sugar and roses in the muggle world, but at least I won't be sent to St. Mungo's for 'fixing'." He was smiling, but Ginny was too familiar with her childhood friend to miss the glint in his eyes that belied his bitterness. With a sigh, she hoisted Thom up on her hip and wrapped her other arm around Harry's waist.

"Now, look you, what do we always say?" she asked, sticking her bottom lip out, hoping she could coax Harry out of his brooding. Reluctantly, Harry rolled his eyes and chorused along, "The ones who care don't matter and the one's that matter don't care. I know Gin, I know. But still-"

"But nothing, Harry Potter! Do _you_ think you're somehow inferior?"

"Well, no, but-"

"And who does, the sodding Ministry?"

"Yes, and-"

"And since when has the great, _Harry bloody Potter_ care one whit what that sorry excuse for a governing body, excluding my dad, thinks?"

"Never, I suppose,"

"Damn straight!" Ginny announced triumphantly, pointing her finger in Harry's amused face. "Besides," she added, tossing her hair and sticking her nose up in the air, "you know that I'm the only one who really matters, and if I don't care about your sexual orientation, well, that's really the end of it, isn't it?" Finally, Harry let out a real grin, shaking his head.

"Still the same obstinate Ginerva Weasley, eh?"

"Shh! I changed it to Virginia! Honestly, what muggle goes by Ginerva anyway?"

"Now, now, Gin," Harry mocked. "The ones who care don't-"

"Oh shove it, you twat," Ginny mumbled, slapping his shoulder.

"You're a doll, you know that?" Ginny said affectionately, mussing Harry's hair. "C'mon, bring that research on online gaming, you can bone up on your reading while Thom and I are at the zoo." Grumbling, Harry scooped up the packet Ginny pointed to.

"Whatever, blondie. I don't see why I have to be reading while _you_ get to hang out with Thom."

Ginny's hand reflexively flew to her hair, feeling the curls as if she could feel the difference between her previously red locks and the new golden ones. "I'm not reading because I already _did_, last night when you went out and left me all alone. And leave my poor hair alone. It's not like yours is any better."

"You know I didn't mean it. I mean, I realize we had to do it, you know, after all, the famous Weasley red hair would give us away in a crowd if anyone looked for us." Ginny snorted and grabbed the car keys, motioning for Harry to grab the backpack and open the door.

"Reckon they're still searching for us?" she asked as they loaded Thom into his car seat. "Or do you think five years is enough for them to catch on?"

"It has been a long time, we could send an owl or a Patronus-"

"No, Harry."

"Gin, it's been _five years_. Your family must be-"

"No, Harry."

"Look, I know they always thought we'd end up together, but-"

"Drop it."

"Maybe if we just explained things, it would be okay."

"Look, Har, we've been over this time and time again," Ginny said wearily, backing out of the driveway and turning onto the road. "I won't let my family tell me what to do now. I mean, I'm 24, Harry, bloody 24! If I'm not allowed to make decisions for myself now, then _when_? I'm not a hag, I'm not stupid, I-I-" with horror, Ginny realized she was starting to tear up.

"Gin, calm down, it's okay. They didn't try to force you to marry me because they thought you couldn't get anyone else." Harry patted Ginny on the back, staring at her intently.

"I know, it's just that they were all so angry at me. Not you, but me, like I did something that screwed it up, like I somehow wasn't enough."

"Well technically, Gin-"

"Okay, I know I don't have a dick, but that's not what I meant." She smiled, silently thanking fate for Harry Potter, the best friend in the world. "Harry, I'm not ready to go back yet. Because as soon as I step foot through that door, I'm exposing us to the same bullocks we had to go through five years ago. I'm not going to out you Harry. I don't want you to have to expose yourself to protect me."

"And I'm sure I never want to hear anyone badger you for not trying hard enough to ensnare me with your womanly wiles," Harry said lightly, although Ginny knew he was serious.

"Right, then," she said. "So since we're both so bloody hung up on protecting one another, we have no choice but to leave them alone. Besides, I don't even want to know what Mum would say about Thom."

"Or Ron," Harry said grimly, his grip on the back of Ginny's headrest tightening. Ginny remembered how the two former best friends had separated; it hadn't been pretty. "Yeah, the git would probably say I was helping you harbor asecret Death Eater love child." Ginny contemplated this, and decided it might not be too far off the mark. Ron was ever one for theatrics, and he'd say anything out of anger. 'How could I bring Thom back to that,' Ginny thought, glancing at her son in the rearview mirror. 'My darling, sweet son. I won't let them control him too.' Setting her jaw firmly, Ginny decided to put her thoughts of the Weasley clan behind her for the time being. She'd go back when she was ready, and if five years wasn't enough, then maybe ten years would be. Either way, she wasn't going to trifle with the thought anymore, she had a day at the zoo to enjoy. With her little, _muggle_ family.

**A/N** So I realize this is dry and boring, probably, but I need to set things up so we can get cracking. The first few chapters are looking like they're going to be similarly introductory, but bear with me kids, and I'll try to pick things up once we know what's going on. Cheers!


	2. Introducing a Pack of Wolves

A/N I feel obligated to tell you that this is the part where you realize I don't like the Weasleys that much. Part of it is that I identify the most with Percy and I've always thought Ron is kind of slow. Sorry, but that's the way the cookie crumbles. Also, I forgot the part where I say that I don't own this and J.K. Rowling does. I realize I'm supposed to say that in a wittier, more original way, but I'm just not that clever. I apologize for the inevitable disappointment.

Chapter Two: Introducing a Pack of Wolves

A shadow had fallen over The Burrow. It was ironic that a family that had held together so strongly during Voldemort's targeting and the eventual war had weathered such trials, only to fall apart due to something so small and insignificant. A failed relationship. A rebellious daughter, is what Molly Weasley called it. A rebellious, uncouth, scarlet woman of a daughter who couldn't see a good man if he went down on his knees in front of her. As far as Mrs. Weasley was concerned, that had been _exactly_ the case with – that girl – and poor Harry Potter, the poor dear. After all that boy did, it was high time he had a little happiness for himself, and who else did he want but – no. It hadn't happened, and Harry Potter was not her son-in-law.

"Mother!" Molly looked up from the dishes, she did them by hand to occupy her mind, and saw Percy standing in the doorway, looking thunderous.

"Percy," Mrs. Weasley nodded, a surprisingly cold acknowledgement of her son.

"You have been in my room again," Percy's statement was not a question, but an accusation. "You deliberately unlocked my trunk and removed things that were not yours to touch!"

"You know how I feel about her things under my roof," Molly said, wiping her hands on a dish towel and using her wand to put the dishes away. "I've told you that. I will not allow you to-"

"You have no right to be nosing in _my_ things, which were locked up, even!" Percy cried in disbelief. "I have a right to my privacy while I'm here, and if I want to keep some of Ginny's school things, then it's no business of yours!"

"Do not say that name, Percy Weasley, and I'm your _mother_ and you will _obey_ me!"

"She's your daughter!" Percy roared suddenly, interrupting Molly and making her jump. "She's your bloody daughter, or have you lost your heart along with your mind!" Footsteps thumped down the stairs as the rest of the family converged on the scene. It was Sunday, and therefore one of the strained, forced Weasley Family Dinner nights. Percy was in from the Ministry, Arthur Weasley having retired several years ago. The twins had left their flat and shop in Hogsmeade for the weekend. Bill was also there, although he was alone. He had not brought his girlfriend, Fleur, to The Burrow since the day Ginny had disappeared. Charlie was the only member of the family who was not in attendance, as had been the case for five years. Ron still lived at The Burrow, along with his wife, Hermione. With over half the family gone, the house was easily large enough for Molly and Arthur to live downstairs and the younger couple to occupy the upper floors. At the moment, this accounted for six people walking into the kitchen to witness the altercation between Molly and her thirdborn son.

"Do not speak to me like that, Percy Weasley!" Molly shrilled, throwing her towel onto the counter, cheeks flaming red. "You will respect me in my home, I never raised you to be rude!"

"No you didn't, you only drove my only sister and your own child away with your incessant nagging and meddling," Percy retorted, crossing his arms and glaring at the woman across the table from him. "If you hadn't tried to force Harry Potter on her-"

"He loved her!" Molly shrieked. "He loved her, and she would have been perfectly happy with him! Why didn't she want him, he whom she had been in love with all her life, and friends with too? What _else_ was she doing that made it so hard for her to settle down? She was nothing more than a-"

"Don't you dare," Percy hissed, leaning forward and shaking his finger at his mother. "Don't you _dare_ impugn her. She was no more a wild child than I. In fact," he righted himself and threw his arms up. "Would you do the same to me? If you thought I would be better off with one of your friends' daughters, would you have treated me the same as you did Ginny?"

"Never," Mrs. Weasley shouted," say that name in front of me! That girl is dead to me, she and her philandering ways will not be brought up in my home!" She stormed out of the kitchen, past her children and husband, and into her bedroom, slamming the door shut as she went. Percy watched her with hard eyes, not moving from his spot, and Bill came up to pat him on the back.

"Perce, why do you push her all the time. You know she won't change. I know she won't change. What's the point of it all, mate?"

"I just can't let her go unopposed," Percy whispered, suddenly sagging. "I wasn't as close to Ginny as you or Ron were, but I just- if no one defends her then how can I ever deserve her if she comes back?" Silence met his confession, as all the people in the room thought about the red headed girl and where she might be.

"I say, forget her," Ron spoke up from the back of the Weasley crowd. "D'you reckon if she cared about her own family she'd leave and never contact us? Mum's right, she abandoned us, and if she can turn her back on family so easily, then fine, let her. S'not like there's not enough of us, is there?" Hermione glared at her husband, but said nothing. In the five years since Ginny, along with Harry, had left, the family had clearly divided. Perhaps it was part of living with Molly, but Hermione had noticed that Ron seemed to be the only brother who disliked Ginny, although he hated Harry as much, if not more. Hermione exchanged a glance with Fred, who rolled his eyes and mouthed 'prat' and pointed at Ron. George snickered, giving a nasty look to their younger brother. The two were as nice as ever to Hermione, but they very rarely spoke to Ron. All of the older siblings were in favor of forgiving Ginny, although while Charlie refused to involve himself with the family at all and Bill just looked on with a sad disapproval, the twins preferred to blame Ron, whereas Percy blamed Molly. Among all of the civil warring, Mr. Weasley alone stood neutral, and therefore, enjoyed the company of all of his family, such as it was. It was he who usually restored order after family explosions, and he did so now.

"Boys, let's just call it a night, all right? Get some sleep, and we'll see one another next week, yes?" Unfortunately, this evening, the situation was not to be diffused. Ron had turned around and caught the twins leering at him and pulled Hermione behind him.

"Oi, you thickheads, what d'you think you're doing. 'Mione, don't look at them."

"Ooh, big man, Ronald," Fred sneered, pointedly looking at the way Ron held Hermione's wrist. "Decided that Hermione needed to go back in the cage?" Hermione bit her lip and flushed at this, but had long since learned to stay out of Weasley arguments. While she privately sided with Fred, she didn't want to be on the receiving end of Ron's fury, which was building up quickly, if his trembling was anything to go by.

"Yeah, _Ronald_," George chimed in. The other family members tensed, recognizing the start of a fight. "Thought you had Hermione do your thinking for you, since you've got all the reasoning of a troll. So where do you get off not letting her think for herself?" Ron was clenching his fists now, having dropped Hermione's arm. Hermione backed away and looked fearfully at Bill, who was the largest of the brothers. He nodded at her tiredly before pushing his way between his siblings, trying to stop the barrage of insults and threats. Hermione stepped outside, sitting on the porch as the yelling got progressively louder. She turned as she heard the door open and close, and saw Percy coming to sit next to her. They sat in silence for a few minutes before Hermione gave a sigh, "Why do they have to fight, so?"

"Famous Weasley temperament," Percy chuckled dryly. "You've seen Mum. We never had a chance, with that kind of parentage." There was silence again, before Hermione continued.

"I can't blame Fred and George, really. I was furious with Ron, too, but I just didn't have the energy to be angry with him all the time."

"He's always been the worst of us. The war allowed him to grow up with his temper. If he had had to get a job and live in the real world like the rest of us, maybe his would have tamed more."

"Still, I was there when he yelled at her, calling her all sorts of terrible names, degrading her, telling her she didn't deserve Harry," Hermione trailed off, looking at the ground. "And I didn't stop him. I still feel so horribly guilty because I didn't _say _anything. I was just scared of him, I suppose, although that's really no excuse."

"My brother never," Percy paused, clearly uncomfortable, "well, he never – hasn't _hit_ you, has he?" He looked at Hermione in horror as she stared blankly at him for a few seconds.

"Oh no! No, no, he hasn't. Honestly, Percy!" she cried when it looked as if he didn't believe her. "I don't think he would, and if he did-" here, she broke off, setting her jaw. "If he _did_, he'd find himself in far more trouble than the war ever gave him." Percy didn't doubt it; Hermione Weasley was not a woman who would take lightly to abuse. She sighed again, looking wistful. "I wish Charlie were here. He was always so good at mediating, so calm in the face of all this nonsense."

"Yes, and too smart to come home and get mixed up into it." Percy shook his head. "Not that I blame him. Sometimes I think I'd be happier if I went off in an ambassador delegation. This constant fighting, even when no one brings it up, it just lurks under the surface and makes things tense."

"I know! And look at poor Bill, who can't even bring Fleur home anymore. How long have they been together?"

"Hmm," Percy thought, "Reckon it has to be about ten years now. He told me he doesn't hold with marriage, and neither does Fleur, so they're just going to do a civil partnership. Haven't told Mum though."

"Yes, well, I can't exactly blame them. Marriage does seem to cause an awful lot of fuss in your family, doesn't it?" Hermione asked, then clapped her hand over her mouth. "Percy, I wasn't thinking, I'm so sorry-"

"Don't be," he said, patting her hand. "It's a miracle Mum and Dad are still together, with the way she carries on. And," he looked at her kindly, "if it's not too bold, I can't imagine that your marriage is unstrained by all of this. Hell, Fleur and Bill are probably only healthy because he keeps her outside of the family, and what does that say?"

"You're absolutely right," Hermione murmured. "Ron is- well, he's been different since they left. He's right with your Mum about Ginny, but after he lost Harry, it's like he won't let himself be happy anymore. I just don't know _why_ he hates him so much! And then he tried to replace Harry with poor Neville, who just isn't the same at all."

"Longbottom? That – er – chubby one, who liked Herbology?"

"The same," Hermione nodded. "And he's sweet and loyal, but he just doesn't have the same spirit Harry did. Ron needed Harry, I think, because Harry made him feel special and not just the youngest son of a big family. Without him, he's surly and irascible…" again Hermione trailed off, looking into the distance.

"Hermione," Percy said hesitantly, drawing her attention back to him. "Look, I'm worried about you." Hermione started to protest, but Percy held his hand up to stop her. "Just hear me out, would you? I know Ron, and I've seen how this meltdown is only getting worse. In five years, he's yet to let up, and I'm worried that things are only going to get worse. If anything, if he, well, if he does anything, please don't feel like you're alone." Hermione looked at Percy solemnly before nodding. "Alright then. I'm going to Apparate back to the Ministry, do some paperwork to clear my head after tonight. Owl me if you ever want to chat," Percy said, standing. Walking away, he could still hear the raised voices of his family echoing in his head, and he didn't know if they were real or memories.

A/N Okay I realize that was confusing. Let me break it down:

Ron: HATES Harry, dislikes Ginny

Mrs. Weasley: adores Harry, blames Ginny for not doing her duty

Percy: blames Mrs. Weasley for driving Ginny off

Fred/George: blame Ron for yelling at Ginny and driving her off

Bill: won't bring Fleur around anymore because he thinks Ron and Mrs. Weasley aren't being reasonable

Charlie: refuses to come home from Romania and get mixed up in this insanity

Mr. Weasley: neutral as Switzerland, but more tired and possessing less chocolate


	3. Introducing a Partnership

A/N This is the last "introduction" chapter. There are three basic angles to this story, GinnyHarry, Weasleys, and Draco. Yes, they'll eventually merge, but it'll rotate who has the main focus and which characters' thoughts are revealed. You'll see, you're bright kids.

Chapter Three: Introducing a Partnership

'Mother, please, I can't-' 

'_Draco, my darling, this is what I _want_, I-I need you to do this for me.'_

'_Please don't, I'll fight this, we can fight this, just give me the chance to help you!'_

'_You can help me, Draco, you can help me by ending this.'_

_The vial passed through the bars. Her wrist was so pale and fragile. Her eyes sank into her cheekbones. Blonde hair. Thin lips. Drinking. Nerveless fingers spasm, guards run, yelling, a rough hand shaking him 'Whatdidyoudowhatdidyougiveherwhatwhatwhat-'_

Beep. Beep. Beep. Emotionless as ever, the alarm clock went off, and Draco Malfoy opened his eyes. The dream of his mother's suicide was one of the worse ones, and Draco knew instinctively that today would not be a good day. Groaning more for the sake of breaking the silence than anything else, he heaved himself out of his bed and stumbled into the bathroom. Going through his morning ablutions was the best part of his day, mainly because it was a schedule and Draco Malfoy clung to such patterns. After his shower, he did not bother toweling the condensation off the shower door. 'Damn the landlord,' he thought. 'I'm not in the mood for this bullshit. Let the paint peel, I don't care.'

Humming, Draco threw on some jeans and a t-shirt before grabbing his laptop bag and bike helmet. Locking the door to his tiny one room apartment, he walked past the elevator – no use waiting, it was broken again – and went down the stairs. No sooner had he made it outside the dingy building than his cell phone went off. Flicking it open and holding it to his ear, he grumbled a bleary acknowledgment to whoever was on the other line.

"Malfoy? It's Steve. Don't forget we have a meeting-"

"Yeah, yeah, with Sequoia, the investment firm, I know," Draco said, smirking.

"Wipe that smirk off your face, Malfoy, just because you aren't here doesn't mean I can't _see_ you, you bastard." Steve's amused voice came out loud over the phone. "Look, do you have the presentation on a disk, because my computer crashed last night and-"

"Relax, man, I've got it AND I emailed it to both of our accounts just to be sure. Dude, what's up with you? You're being unusually anal, even for you."

"How can you be such a deadbeat? This is the meeting we've been preparing for three weeks for, or did you forget? Inhaling too many fumes from the potheads in that slum you call home?"

"Ouch, I'm hurt Steve, really. And where do you take the girls you bring home? Oh yes, your parents' _basement_. I mean, really, dude, the basement? What are you, some kind of poor troll?"

"Ha fucking Ha, Malfoy. Just get your ass here on time, I"ll give you a ride since I don't think even you could make it up the hills on that bike of yours."

"See you then, fatty," Draco laughed, before hanging up, cutting his enraged business partner's squawk prematurely short. Strapping his helmet on, Draco unlocked his battered bicycle from the fence in front of his apartment building and rode out into traffic, narrowly avoiding a car. Steve was a good guy, for an American, he mused to himself. A pudgy computer programmer with too much spirit for desk life, Steve had found him looking at the employment board at the university six years ago.

"Who the hell are you?" Steve had asked, looking at Malfoy's scruffy clothes.

"Depends who the hell is asking," Draco responded coolly, slightly taken aback.

"I'm Steve Keller, and what's a screwball like you doing looking for a job here?"

That had launched a discussion of how Draco was sick of being a teller at the bank and needed something more challenging. Steve had been a college student then, working on the perfect videogame. He was offensive, rude, and unabashed about it, and so naturally, he needed someone to handle the business aspect of his creation. Draco, reared to mingle in high society immediately struck Steve as a good partner, and so Draco allowed himself to be bullied into the position. Steve had money from his parents, who were well off, and so he paid Draco enough to be able to rent his place, buy food, a bike, and generally get by. They had steadily been building a team and the product for five years, until they reached a point where they knew they needed money. Lots of it. For the thousandth time since that day, Draco cursed the Ministry of Magic for seizing his inheritance and all his family's assets. How easy it would be to bankroll the project, but no, this was all being done from scratch.

Back to the Ministry, though, Draco smirked. As if those righteous assholes could ever understand anything. _'Death Eaters are morally corrupt and terefor unfit to hold property or assets.'_ He remembered those damning words at his mother's trial so many years ago, the beginning of a tirade against the Malfoys. Did it matter that he and his mother had been subjected to this horror because of his father, a madman? No. Did it matter that Draco himself had been forced into the Death Eater activities, even proven by a statement from Severus Snape? No, not at all. Did it matter that he had lived in fear, every day, of torture and blackmail? Of course not, because he was a Death Eater, and as such, morally corrupt. Zooming through a yellow light, Draco swerved onto a side street, passed a street car, and arrived in front of Steve's house. 'Or rather, Steve's parents' house,' Draco thought, laughing silently at his pompous friend. San Francisco was certainly a scene filled with characters, and he was glad that not all the characters were like Steve. One was enough, really.

As he was wheeling his bike into the courtyard, Steve burst out of the front door, papers flying and computer parts spilling out of his bag.

"Put that down, you moron, and get in the damn car! We're running five minutes late," Steve panted as he rushed by in a whirlwind of messy hair and crumpled dress shirt. Rolling his eyes, Draco started after him, trying not to laugh as Steve ran through the pitch again in the car.

"-and that's why we think Rise of the Dark Lord will be the next billion dollar game," Steve finished, flashing the potential investors a nervous grin. Draco inwardly smiled at Steve's stubbornness. The man hated speaking in front of people, but insisted that if Draco did all the presentations, he'd get all the credit for the game. 'So what does the great blob do but get up and make an ass out of himself,' Draco thought somewhat fondly. 'Got to respect that sort of conviction.'

"Well boys, we'll talk it over in our meeting tomorrow morning. Thanks for coming in," one of the audience members said, standing up to shake hands. Steve let out an audible sigh of relief as everyone trooped out. Draco, however, didn't let himself relax. Now they played the waiting game.

Steve panicked all the way back to his house. He was still stressing after they got out of the car, and he continued to stress over Draco's shoulder as he unlocked his bike.

"Seriously, did you hear my voice crack on the twelfth slide, though? And why the hell do you lock up your bike here? Still paranoid?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact," Draco shot back. "You would be too if you were mugged and had everything stolen from you."

"Yeah, well, at least they didn't steal your virginity, pretty little thing like you," Steve snorted. "Don't play the pity card, Malfoy, you've turned out fine."

Draco laughed, although it had taken him a long time to do so at the situation. After the government seized all the Malfory property and his mother had committed suicide, Draco had needed to get away from the anger that consumed him. It complicated things when the Ministry announced that all wizards formerly associated with Death Eaters would be monitored for suspicious magic, potentially any magic. Determined to start fresh, Draco had resorted to escaping through Muggle transportation. Converting the money he had stashed around Malfoy Manor into Muggle currency, Draco had boarded the first international airplane leaving England, which happened to be going to America. Fresh from England, he had been wandering in San Francisco, looking for a hotel. A gang of thugs had surrounded him and knocked him down, taking all of his muggle identification and muggle money. The worst of it had been that in falling, he had snapped his wand in half, making him a magicless wizard in a foreign country with no money or ID. 'At least I was good looking enough to worm my way into some odd jobs,' Draco mused sarcastically as he left Steve and rode home.

'You are worthless without the Dark Lord' 

'_Yes, father.'_

'_You think you are better than those who follow him? You think you have the right to say no to your destiny?'_

'_No, father,'_

'_I wonder how your Mother would feel if she knew how cowardly you are, how you shirk your duties to our Lord. I think she would feel…pained by it, Draco.'_

'_Don't hurt her!'_

'_Crucio! Do not question your betters. Do not let weakness make you a liability to the Dark Lord. Do you understand me?'_

'_Yes…'_

Draco was woken at an ungodly hour not by his alarm clock, but by his cell phone. Groaning, he rolled over and answered it. "What the fuck?"

"Wake up you fucker, I got the call!"

"From who? Goddamnit, what time is it, fatty?"

"It's eight thirty in the morning, you pussy. Wake up and pack!"

"What in the _hell_ are you going on about," Malfoy snarled half heartedly, slipping into his long buried British accent due to bleariness.

"Ooh aren't we fancy this morning, Malfoy. Listen up, Sequoia said they weren't in the market for this type of deal-" Draco's heart plummeted. He didn't like to think he was as emotional about things as Steve, but the thought of all their hard work going to waste made him cringe. Now they were going to have to go to another firm, one not quite as good that wouldn't give them quite as good a deal, and then-

"Are you even listening?" Steve screamed, even more flustered than he had been yesterday. "They aren't going to do it, but their sister company in England is! Yorke and Ramsay, located in London. I booked our flights, we're leaving in three hours. Pack enough for two weeks, I'll pick you up in ten minutes." With an emphatic click, Steve was gone. Draco spent five seconds staring at his phone, trying to decide how to feel. 'Back to England,' he thought, the sentence sounding strange even in his head. 'Back home.'

How did he feel about it? He wasn't sure. He would be in Muggle England, he supposed, so less chance of running into anyone there. And it was only two weeks, most of which he'd spend inside working. Chances for exposure were slim. And it wasn't as if he had been doing anything illicit recently. 'Not that that ever stopped the Ministry before, eh?' Draco thought bitterly. He wondered vaguely if he'd be able to get a new wand. He had some Muggle cash he could change to Galleons, he supposed, but the real question was what he would do if he had a wand. 'What do I do? I hang out with Steve, I ride my bike, I work on the game,' he mused. 'Do I need a wand for that? Not really, no. Still…' Once a wizard, always a wizard, Draco supposed. It was more a security blanket than anything else. His reverie was interrupted by an impatient banging on his door.

"What the fuck are you doing in there? Hurry up!" Steve's voice barked through the door, which flew open just a second later.

"Steve, it's been two minutes, you said I had ten!"

"I lied, I was parking when I called you. Have you packed yet? You haven't started? Jesus help me, son of God, I'm going to fucking kill you if we aren't out of here in five minutes."

"You know, one day I'm going to get tired of you verbally abusing me and I'll call the cops."

"Yeah, whatever you bastard. See, this is why you haven't gotten laid in the six years I've known you. Shit, I've gotten more ass than you are, and to be honest, you're the more attractive man."

"Well, well," Draco purred, putting down a pair of socks to flutter his eyelashes at his friend. "Coming on to me again, Steve? I told you before, it's just not professional-"

"Shut up," Steve growled, blushing. "Are you done? Good, let's get out of here, the crack whores down the hall were eyeing me as I came in."

Laughing, Draco followed Steve out the door and loaded his bags in the trunk. 'Home it is, then,' he thought wryly, listening to Steve cursing at the traffic. But only for two weeks.

A/N As a girl with no girl friends, Steve is a combination of all my guy friends. So for those of you who were going to say that it's unrealistic that anyone could act so insane…no. It's not. Also, I know it seems unlikely that Draco would fraternize with a Muggle (and WHAT a Muggle, at that) but trust me on this one, we'll get there.

Now, I know I wrote/posted the first three chapters at once, but this will be my last chapter until I get some reviews, because I'm not going to waste time writing something no one wants to read. I'm not blackmailing you or begging or anything. Really.


	4. A Mishap and a Meeting

**A/N Okay so maybe I'm just an idiot, but I can't get the hang of formatting everything. I'm not a luddite, I just like to keep things simple, which this is NOT. So I apologize for weird things that keep popping up like words meshed together and repeated paragraphs. Anyway, after the first terribly anxious 24 hours of posting, I have to admit I finally understand why authors beg for reviews. Damn. I swear I'll go back and review posthumously all the stories I've read.**

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Chapter Four: A Mishap and a Meeting

'_Sunday,' _was the first groggy thought that crossed Ginny Weasley's mind. '_No work. What time is it?'_ The clock laughed at her, cheerily displaying the time to be 7:30. _'Godamnit, why can't this ever happen on the weekdays?' _Ginny moaned internally, resigning herself to getting up early.

It was on morning like this, Ginny supposed, that she especially missed her wand. Shuffling to the bathroom, she imagined the Warming Charm she'd put on the floorboards so her feet weren't so cold, wistfully thought about using Accio to bring her her shampoo and conditioner instead of rifling through the cabinets, and fantasized about using a drying charm instead of the infernal blow dryer. 'Oh well,' she huffed, stepping into the shower. 'It's not like this is supposed to be easy. Five years as a muggle and I'm getting the hang of it. At least I don't get headaches from using a computer anymore.'

Glancing down at the water running down her legs and onto her toes, Ginny frowned and poked at her stomach. 'Gross. Probably shouldn't have eaten all that risotto last night.' Grinning wickedly, Ginny turned the water off and stepped out of the shower. 'Although that's the beauty of it, I can eat whatever I want without six brothers grabbing it all first.' Breathing deeply, ginny looked at her naked figure in the mirror, sobered by the thought of her brothers. It had been a long time since she had a date., and she couldn't even blame her overprotective siblings anymore

"Let's have a look at you then," Ginny said to herself, sucking in her tummy and lifting her chin slightly. "Well, your hips are too wide, your boobs aren't big enough and your arse is flatter than a table." Turning sideways, she continued to eye herself critically. "Small nose, no curves, thick thighs, yes, it's just about official then. You're definitely housewife material." Heaving a sigh, she finished toweling off and slipped her robe on. "Ginny Weasley, you are many things, but a beauty is not one of them," she confided to her reflection in the mirror. Feeling decidedly downcast, she glared at herself. "Oh, chin up there, it's not so bad," she said, trying to be convincing. "You've got, er, personality, and spunk, and- and you're not stupid, that's a good one…" Her failing speech was interrupted by hurried tapping on the door.

"Ginny!" Harry's voice hissed through the door.

"You can wait, I'm almost done," Ginny called, only to be met with furious shushing.

"Gin, let me in! Please, just open the door!" Raising her eyebrows, Ginny cracked the door open, only to be trampled by Harry in his rush to get in. Shoving it closed again, Harry locked it and collapsed against the wall, looking ruffled and frantic.

"What in the world-"

"I messed up, I messed up _really_ badly," Harry moaned softly, beginning to pace. "I didn't mean to, I mean, I wasn't that interested, really, but it was just- he was just-"

"Harry James Potter, you stop this right now and listen to me," Ginny said, putting her hands on her hips and glaring at her roommate. "Would you please gather yourself and try to _make some sense_?"

Harry tugged at his hair for a bit, biting his lip. "So you know how I went out last night, to that gay club in the SoHo district?" Ginny nodded and Harry threw an arm over his face in a pose of utter despair. "I think I got date raped."

Ginny's jaw dropped. "You _what_?" she cried. Harry lunged across the foot of space separating them and wrapped his hand over her mouth.

"Shh, be quiet!" he whispered. "It gets worse, far worse. So there was this guy that was kind of coming on to me, big bloke, dark hair, very fit looking. We were chatting and then we were dancing and I started to get so hot, and he bought me a drink or two. The first few were good, and I felt fine, but then I had to go to the bathroom, and when I came back, he had another one waiting." Ginny's eyes grew wide and she tore his hand off of her face.

"Are you bloody daft?" she stage whispered, leaning in to Harry's face and turning red. "Everyone knows not to drink something unless you've seen it made for you? What kind of-" she spluttered, looking more like her brother Ron than she would ever admit.

"Let me finish," Harry insisted. "By that time I was kind of buzzed, so I just drank it. Next thing I know," and here Harry gulped, looking down, warning Ginny that the worst was yet to come, "I'm waking up in bed with him, we're both starkers, and I feel like I've been nailed by a bus."

"Before I lay into you good and thick for being a twat, let me just ask how the hell you managed to get home," Ginny said, trying to control herself.

"Er, Ginny, what I was trying to say is that I wasn't in his bed, I was in mine. As in, here. As in, _he's still here_." Ginny's face melted into an expression of shock, horror, and revulsion.

"Bloody hell," she managed to get out before sinking to sit on the edge of the bathtub.

"I know," Harry muttered, sitting on the floor facing her. "We've got to think of something to get Armando out of here. I don't think he knows about you, I didn't tell him anything about a roommate or-"

"What about Thom?" Ginny burst out. "I don't want some rapist stranger around my baby? Oh god, is he still sleeping? What if he steals our stuff? What if he kidnaps Thom? I've got to get out of this bathroom!" Harry pulled her down before she could go charging out.

"Look, let's just – let's just calm down and think about this for a second. "Why don't I go back in, and pretend to be sleeping and you burst in and – er- demand that he leave immediately?" Harry looked hopeful, and Ginny grudgingly agreed. Harry slunk out of the bathroom while Ginny disappeared to her room to get dressed and prepare her performance. In exactly five minutes, she had donned her best "Mrs. Weasley" face and was storming down the hall. She stopped by Thom's room to make sure he was fine, and sure enough, the three year old was slumbering peacefully. Ginny softly closed his door before continuing down the corridor to Harry's room. Settling herself, she paused two seconds before opening the door. 'Think angry. Think protective mother. Think Weasley anger. Yeah, I can do this,' she thought, before pushing the door open with a bang. Immediately, Harry sat up with the look of someone who is about to be saved. The lump next to him in bed shifted, moaning, then sat up. Ginny gulped as she beheld the muscular, oily appearance of the man in bed with her best friend. 'Blimey, he's got to be at least six foot,' her mind squeaked before her mouth bellowed, "What the hell is going on and who the hell are you?"

The bear of a man looked at her blearily before turning to Harry. "What is she doing in here?" he gestured to Ginny. He sounded like Crabbe and Goyle from Hogwarts, Ginny thought before her body moved forward on autopilot.

"You need to leave," she insisted in a firm voice. "I don't know who you are, but I know that my roommate wouldn't allow strangers into his bed and I've never met you. So whoever you are, you have no business being here and it's time to go." She motioned for Harry to get up, which he did and scrambled to the walk-in closet to put some clothes on.

"You are a saucy dish, aren't you," Armando purred, leaning back against the headboard and putting his arms behind his head. He didn't look phased and Ginny was becoming more incensed by his cocky attitude. "Didn't your mother ever tell you that when two people like one another, they might sleep together?"

Ginny strode to the bed in three steps and grabbed the offensive man's chin, forcing him to look up at her. "Look, tosser, do you see Harry backing you up? No, you don't, which means that you're done with him. Finished. I'll not allow you to sully my home any longer with your filth. Leave, or I'll call the police." Armando grabbed her wrist and squeezed. Ginny gasped with the sudden pain, not believing that the man had the audacity to touch her. He slowly rose out of bed, looming over her and smirking unpleasantly.

"No, I don't think I will," he began, but he got no further before Ginny kneed him in the groin and stomped his foot with one of her heels. As he grunted and bent forward to clutch his injured crotch, she drew her arm back and slammed the heel of her palm into his chin, making his head lash backwards. Whipping out her cell phone, she dialed the police as Armando sank to the carpet groaning. 'Well I guess some good comes from being raised in war,' Ginny thought with satisfaction.

"Hello? Yes, my name is Ginny Weasley and I have a date rape and trespassing offender in my bedroom," she intoned, eyeballing the still collapsed Armando as Harry peeked out of the closet. "What? Oh no, he's been incapacitated," she smirked. "Come and get him, he's all yours."

Four hours later, the police had come to pick up Armando, both Harry and Ginny had been questioned, and they were sitting at a café for lunch with Thom. The little boy was doodling with crayons, his favorite pastime, in one of his many coloring picture books. A fair skinned boy with brown hair and brown eyes, he was very intelligent and had a sweet nature.

"Look, Mum," he gurgled happily. "A pink castle!" Indeed, he had drawn a fairly decent castle, colored in with pink. "It's pink 'cus Mum's a girl and girls like pink," he continued shyly, holding the picture out to Harry. Harry chuckled at this while Ginny smiled fondly at her son.

"That's very nice, Thom," she said, patting his head while he smiled toothily at her. She loved spending time with Thom; her job required a lot of her time and she was sometimes hard pressed to juggle her family with work. 'Thank Merlin for Ti,' she thought, giggling.

"What?" Harry asked.

"Oh, just thinking about Ti and how thankful I am for him," she said, smiling.

"Hey, that was the best date I ever went on in terms of value. I got dinner and a nanny all in one go," Harry said with a grin. Harry had met Tiberon Blainey at a consumer conference in Ireland, and the two had hit it off. After dating for a month, Ti had realized that his favorite member of the little family was not Harry, but Thom. Harry ended things with Ti, but the Uncle Ti had stayed firmly in place as Thom's caretaker, since he was a software consultant that mostly worked from home.

"Yeah, sometimes I don't know why we put up with him, as he's clearly nutters," Ginny snickered, thinking of all the mischief Ti had gotten into, most of the time with Thom in tow.

"Oh come on, Gin, you can't judge the bloke like that," Harry protested. "That time with the hose was just a mistake, really."

"And the time when he wanted to go get Thom's ear pierced?"

"It was a joke! I think."

"And when he tried to teach Thom how to play footie when he was eighteen months old?"

"Erm, okay, well that was-"

"And the time when he tried to give Thom potato crisps before he had any teeth?"

"Alright, fine, he's raving mad, but we love him anyways," Harry surrendered.

"Mummy," Thom interjected, tugging Ginny's sleeve. "Uncle Ti said that we're going to go flying kites tomorrow when you and Uncle Har are at work. Can you tell him no?"

"What?" Ginny asked, exchanging a bemused look with Harry.

"Oh, sorry, tell him no _thank you_," the little boy said, misunderstanding the question.

"Oh, that's fine, baby, but," Ginny's brow wrinkled, "why don't you want to go out with Uncle Ti?"

"I just don't like playing outside so much, that's all," Thom responded, shrugging. "It makes me tired, you see," he said, staring earnestly up into his mother's face. Still puzzled, Ginny nodded, rubbing Thom's back.

"Alright then, sweetie. Do you feel okay?"

"Yes Mum, I'm fine, I just don't want to play outside tomorrow. Can we go to the library instead? Or maybe the museum," he suggested, his little face lighting up. Thom loved the dinosaur museum with the big skeletons. He asked whoever he was with to read the plaques to him and he tried to remember the facts and draw the dinosaurs when he got home.

"Sure thing," Harry said, "we'll call Uncle Ti tonight and you can tell him everything you want to do."

"Okay, Uncle Har."

The next morning, Ginny and Harry set out for work, waving goodbye to a sleepy Thom and an overly exuberant Ti.

"Ti, remember, museum, library, quiet things today," Ginny huffed, stuffing things into her purse.

"Darling, I've _got_ it. Honestly," Ti blustered, "I'm perfectly able to take care of the little tyke. He'll be so happy it'll be like Alice in Wonderland."

"Er, alright, if you say so," Ginny said, aware that some muggle references still escaped her.

"Thommy, come out and give Mummy a kiss before she goes!" Ti hollered as Harry bustled out of the kitchen munching a bagel. Thom came out of his room, still in pajamas and holding his favorite stuffed animal, He was pounced on by Ginny who covered his faces in kisses as Thom laughed, swinging his toy around.

"Donny wants a kiss too," he said, shoving the dragon into his mother's face. Ginny obligingly kissed Donny's nose before setting Thom down and giving him one last hug.

"Be good for Uncle Ti, even when he's naughty," she said, as Ti protested in the background. "I love you Thom."

"Love you too, Mummy. So does Donny."

In the car ride, Harry quizzed Ginny on the pitches set up for the day.

"Calypto, quartered in-"

"Paris, runs an online secondhand clothing service, needs capital to build up their inventory. Next?"

"The Friend Group," Harry snorted, rolling his eyes.

"C'mon, we're not supposed to do that, what if it really is the next big thing," Ginny chided him. "Although, an online social network for senior citizens…yeah, it doesn't sound very hot. What's the third one again?"

"Uh, third one? Oh right, that's S&D Gaming. Got some new game that's supposed to be pretty good. Sent over by Sequoia, in America."

"What's the game?"

"Rise of the something, I dunno, they didn't send over much information. They're flying all the way from San Francisco, so we'll get the details in the meeting, I expect."

Pulling into their spot, Harry and Ginny proceeded into the building, where they sat through a short briefing, two long and boring pitches, lunch at the coffee shop across the street, and a scheduling meeting. It was a very normal day, boring almost, until about four o'clock in the afternoon, when Harry and Ginny entered the pitch room for the last presentation of the day. In the front of the room, setting up a laptop was a pudgy man wearing black slacks and a blue dress shirt. He looked flustered, Ginny noted, and she shot him a kind smile to try to ease his nerves. A rather plump man, he grinned nervously back, reminding her of Neville Longbottom in his fumbling.

"We're almost ready to go, my partner just stepped into the bathroom," he said, flushing slightly and standing up. Just then, the door opened again, and someone else stepped in. "Ah, here he is," the first man said. "Good afternoon, my name is Steve Keller and my partner here is Draco Malfoy." At that name, Ginny's head shot up and whipped to look at the person who had just come in. Grey eyes, platinum blond hair, jeans and a polo, yes, this most certainly was Draco Malfoy. Harry sat ramrod straight, jaw dropped, staring at the vision of their old school nemesis. Draco apparently hadn't seen them yet, for he walked right up to the front of the room, flashing the two dumbstruck principals and the partner, Jack, a carefree smile before launching into his presentation.

'What fresh hell is this?' Ginny thought, struggling to keep her mind on what Malfoy was saying.

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**A/N okay, so I got one review, which is good enough for me. I am perfectly capable of writing this story for one person only, but I'd much rather write it for a bunch. And now my friends, I go off to pizza with my band and hopefully some practicing. Yeah it annoys my neighbors, but they smoke, and that annoys me, so we're even.**


	5. A Diary and a Dilemma

**A/N** **So I don't know what's possessing me to be on such a roll writing chapters, maybe I should hold them back so that I have wiggle room once I go on vacation and don't have time to post. But I get really excited to post, so I guess that won't work. Oh well. Onwards, dear travelers.**

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Chapter Five: A Diary and a Dilemma

Hermione Weasley was, admittedly, somewhat worried. Books and cleverness, as she had told Harry, didn't account for much in the real world. 'Why is it,' she wondered, 'that I can turn a cat into a dog, deflect Dementors, and successfully pass eight N.E.W.T. level classes with flying colors, and yet, I can't talk to my husband?'

It was sad, really, she thought as she directed the dishes to wash themselves and moved to her bedroom. Growing up with Ron had been fun; he was always a good laugh, very loyal, good to have in a fight, and was very protective. Sighing, she eased into her desk before summoning a neat journal with a flick of her wand. 'So where did it change?' she thought for the thousandth time as she took a bottle of invisible ink from her drawer and dipped her quill in, preparing for the morning's entry.

It is Wednesday morning. Ron has just left for work at the Ministry. There was a slight altercation at breakfast when I mentioned that I was going to have tea with Percy today.

Hermione paused, nibbling the end of the quill, trying to remember what was said in order to record it verbatim.

I said, "Ron, after I get out of work this afternoon, I'm off to have a late tea with Percy, his department at the Ministry is going through some changes and I'd like to know what he thinks about them." Ron was sullen, and asked me what I needed to talk to Percy for. I explained that he was the only one in that department that I was on speaking terms with.

"You're friendly enough, aren't you?" Ron told me without looking at me. "Shouldn't be too hard for you to make some new friends?" Maybe it was because it was earlier than I usually wake up, or maybe I was just in a good mood from making eggs benedict for the first time, it's not really that easy, you know, but I spoke too quickly. I told him that he was being ridiculous and there was no reason why I shouldn't visit Percy. Of course, Ron took this as an attack of some sort and stood up, yelling about house wives and consorting with the other side, and other rubbish. I didn't say anything after that, as he was clearly disturbed, but he slammed the door on his way out without saying good bye.

Satisfied, Hermione dried the quill, put the ink away, and charmed the journal to return to its place on the shelf. Invisible ink, she decided, was useful stuff. After all, Ron had taken to snooping through her things, and if the ugly diary she had received many Christmases ago, that was understandable. Ron had laughed when she unwrapped the gift from Fred and George. Mauve and lime green, the book had a picture of Fred and George on the front in which the two boys were fluttering their eyelashes and picking their noses.

"So when you're writing in your secret diary, you remember who you're really in love with," George had joked, earning a playful slap from Hermione and another round of laughter from the Weasley boys. Those were better times, Hermione thought wistfully. 'There's no way Ron would laugh at that sort of thing now.' Ironically, she _had _used the diary as a secret log, not of her secrets, but rather Ron's erratic behavior. Remembering a special on psychological disorders she had seen on TV one summer at her parents' home, Hermione had begun to take notes on how Ron acted. Reading through the two months of notes, her heart would sink when she noticed Ron was acting more and more volatile, usually exacerbated by his family.

Hermione loved Ron, but she was beginning to think things couldn't continue in this vein. Hermione had had her own dreams of greatness after Hogwarts, but when Ron had convinced her to work at the shop in Diagon Alley, she hadn't refused. Part of it was the toll the war had taken on her, and part of it was that newlywed desire to make one's partner as happy as possible. Either way, she found herself working at Flourish and Blott's as a general employee.

"It's not that I'm unhappy, per se," she told her coworker Luna during their lunch hour that day. "Really, you know how I love to read, and it's so peaceful here."

"You don't have to say anything, you know," Luna replied dreamily. "We both know that this might not be where you wanted to end up. Have you thought about leaving?" Luna Lovegood was the other half of the bookstore's workforce. She and Hermione had been allies during the war, and Hermione found her a pleasant companion in the real world.

"Well, I don't know about that," Hermione said easily, lying blatantly. "I mean, this position has such nice hours, I like to get home to cook a spot of dinner before Ron comes home. And it gives me plenty of time to pursue my research, as well as first pick of the books that come in." Hermione had never told Luna about her "Ron journal". In fact, she had never told anyone. Ron and Hermione were war heroes turned fairy tale romance lovers. Everyone had always known that they would end up together, how could they not?

"Hermione," Luna smiled sunnily, "your marriage is so wonderful. I hope sometime I'll be able to find someone who lets me do what I'd like."

Hermione nodded a tad absently, "Yes, yes, Ron's very good to me. It's always been easy to see what a good match we'd make. I'm quite lucky." The conversation was turning awkward quickly for Hermione, and she was glad when the topic drifted to the new books and what was coming up in The Quibbler. The only thing they had never discussed was Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley. No one in the wizarding world spoke about them, apart from Rita Skeeter who occasionally wrote speculation pieces on the pair's whereabouts. A flurry of ridiculous rumors had flown for a short time after the disappearance, but after a while, it had faded. The only questionable thing about it was that Harry and Ginny hadn't left during the war, or even right after it. It had been two years after the war that the two had vanished without a trace, and no one outside of the Weasley family knew what had prompted it.

It was three o'clock when Hermione locked the front door of Flourish and Blott's, swinging her tote over her shoulder and Apparating to Hogsmeade. The Three Broomsticks was boisterous as ever, she thought fondly as she shouldered her way through the door to find Percy.

He was sitting at a booth by the window, idly chatting to Rosmerta, who had brought him a steaming cup of what looked to be chamomile tea. Hermione waved and was greeted by a smile from Percy and a cry of welcome from Rosmerta.

"Hello, hello, come on over Hermione. How are you today, dear?"

"Fine, thanks, Rosmerta."

"You look cold, Hermione, it's going to snow soon. Fancy some tea, then?"

"Sure, oh, and a plate of croissants, please."

Rosmerta bustled off, calling for a tipsy looking wizard to stop levitating his tankard while Hermione sat down across from her friend. Percy, she reasoned, was really not a bad sort. Mocked by his brothers and formerly coddled by his mother, the "serious" Weasley son had always seemed stiff and aloof during her childhood. However, once he was reconciled to his family during the last war, she had begun to see him as a boy trying to escape the poverty he had grown up in. A middle child in a boisterous set of boys, Percy had matured very quickly in the hopes of distinguishing himself and carving his own niche. Her involvement in the fight against Voldemort had made Hermione appreciate calmness and quiet confidence in a person, and it had taken her a while to begin to see Percy as more than Ron's annoying spoilsport brother.

"Afternoon, Hermione. I hope your day has gone well, so far," Percy said in that overly formal way of his.

"Fine, Percy, as usual. How have things in the Ministry been?"

"Oh," he blew the hair off his forehead. "There's been some corruption, really nasty business, so there is a whole series of inquiries being launched. None, so far, against yours truly, not that I have anything to hide."

"Mm, not to worry, everyone knows you, things won't get too far out of hand," Hermione said encouragingly. She wondered suddenly if she should broach the topic of Ron. It had been almost a month since she and Percy had talked about it on the porch, during that particularly disastrous dinner. 'I don't have enough evidence,' she berated herself. 'It's only normal for couples to fight sometimes, I'm certainly not the easiest person to get along with.' As if reading her mind, Percy became more serious.

"Hermione, I wanted to ask how things are with Ron." Hermione looked up, startled. "I was having a chat with Neville you know, he came to see me about registering some new magical plant hybrid. Poor bloke is so scared of the Ministry he wanted to know how to approach the whole process. Anyway," he leaned a little closer and lowered his voice, "he seemed to think that things were getting worse."

Hermione gulped. If the subject had gone without mention, she would have no qualms about ignoring it. However, now that Percy had asked directly, she wasn't sure how to respond. Percy noticed her indecision and kept talking.

"You don't have to hide anything from me, Hermione," he said. "I should hope you'd know that by now." And Hermione did know. Who else would be level-headed enough to advise her? Who else knew Ron well enough to be able to speculate what his strange and startling behavior meant? Who else wouldn't go prattling around to everyone about her failing marriage? 'Harry,' said a small voice in her mind. 'Harry would listen to you.' She shook her head minutely as Percy regarded her with a worried stare. 'Well, Harry isn't here right now, Percy is, so for God's sake, _tell_ him already.'

"Percy," she said slowly, "you've been very supportive of me over the years. It seems ludicrous that we've been friends for over six years, but-" she swallowed again, suddenly nervous. Would he think she was a bad wife? No, she couldn't do it. She'd tell him, but just not yet.

"Yes, Hermione, I have, and you know that no matter what you say, I will continue to be just as supportive," Percy prompted.

"I know, Percy, and I want to thank you for your concern, but there's nothing wrong," Hermione continued, gluing a small smile to her face. "Ron and I fight just like any couple, but without any bad there can't be any good. How is Neville, by the way? I can't seem to find the time to look him up anymore?" she switched the subject deftly. Percy started talking about their clumsy friend's advances in Herbology and paralyzing fear of authority. Part of Hermione felt as if she had missed a chance, but the other part was afraid of rejection. 'You can always tell him later,' she told herself.

"-the delegation, but I'm not sure," Percy was still talking, apparently past Neville and his plants. "It's an awfully big responsibility, not that I mind, but to go so far is rather daunting."

"I'm sorry, Percy," Hermione blushed guiltily, "I missed that last part. Delegation to where?"

"There's a colony of werewolves in Ireland that has sent a message that they want to undergo the Wolfsbane treatment. Apparently it's another group that Fenrir Greyback set up during the war as backup troops, and they've been fighting to control themselves since he was captured and killed last winter." Both Hermione and Percy shivered, thinking of the execution of the infamous werewolf. After the fall of Voldemort, Fenrir had gone on a rampage, transforming almost as many has he killed. It was sticky business for the Ministry, but many victims were seeking Wolfsbane potion to help with their condition.

"Anyway, this colony wants to have a conference with Ministry people to potentially start a protected reservation for werewolves – one which keeps people out and keeps them in during the full moon." Hermione raised her eyebrows at this. "Yes, they've been working on some sort of Summoning Charm that would pull them back to the reserve on the night of the full moon. It's a very interesting idea."

"You should do it, Percy!" Hermione gushed. "What an opportunity! When does the conference happen?"

"Not for a while yet, I should think," Percy said. "They're still working out the details. I'm still not sure if I want to leave," he shrugged, although Hermione thought she could detect of excitement in his eye.

"Well, whyever not, Percy Weasley?" Hermione demanded. "That's a once in a lifetime opportunity if I ever heard one? Why on earth would you stay around here?"

Percy looked at her intensely, and for a moment, Hermione was captivated by his brown eyes, so much like Ron's. "I have my reasons," he said softly, after a while. "I should be going now, I have a meeting with Hauser from Care of Magical Creatures. Owl me for lunch again, sometime, it's good to keep in touch." In a flurry of clothing, a quick kiss on the cheek, and another backwards glance, Percy was gone. Hermione was left sitting, frozen in place, and wondering why her stomach felt so odd. 'What in blazes was that all about?' she wondered, putting her hand to her cheek. It wasn't the kiss that had her so off kilter, nothing was new about a friendly kiss in greeting or farewell, after all. 'No,' she thought, munching on a croissant. 'It was that look, that blasted _look_. What could he possibly mean, he had his reasons?' It was at that moment that Hermione realized there was another side to the mysterious Mr. Percy Weasley. The old childhood snitch had become more of a presence, but she was still bemused as to what exactly that meant. 'Perhaps I should keep a journal on Percy's abnormalities as well,' she thought dryly, leaving a tip on the table as she took her leave as well.

It wasn't until Hermione had set the gravy to simmer and was basting the French hen that she realized what the unfamiliar flutter had been in her stomach. With a horrified glance at Ron, who was sitting moodily in his recliner and reading the newspaper, Hermione began to slice carrots with a trembling hand. 'Good gods,' she thought weakly. 'I'm attracted to him. I have a _crush_ on my husband's brother.' And Hermione knew that this was one such dilemma which all of her brilliance and her book knowledge couldn't save her from.

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**A/N: Someone mentioned that Draco seemed out of character, which I wanted to address. Yes, you're right. However, keep in mind that he's been in the Muggle world for 6 years, he's now 25 (if I've done my math correctly), and a whole bunch of stuff has indeed happened (which we'll being to discover in the next chapter). Well, **_**you'll**_** discover it, I kind of already know. Sorry. Thank you brave souls who have reviewed, it's all very encouraging. Kisses to you! Er, the chocolate kind, not the lippy kind, mind you.**


	6. A Humbling and a Hellion

**A/N So I have a hypothetical question. Do spoilers still exist, even though the whole series is finished and has been for a while now? What if I put in something that happens in the canon; isn't that only a spoiler if I **_**tell**_** people it's a spoiler? Oh man, confusing, but this would be a good thing to know, I guess. **

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Chapter Six: A Humbling and a Hellion

'Well,' Draco Malfoy though wryly as he calmly met the incredulous stares of Harry Potter and the blonde next to him. 'What have we here?' With only half an ear paying attention to Steve's stuttering, his gaze slid from Harry to the girl. She looked familiar, but not enough so that Draco could identify her. 'What would the famous Potter be doing in the Muggle world?' he thought. The name Harry Potter was not thought with venom, Potter had ceased to be a thorn in his side. No, it was with honest curiosity that Draco considered the implications. As much as Potter intrigued him, the little spitfire next to him, for she obviously had spirit with that baleful look she was channeling at him, was the one who really caught his fancy.

The presentation was over before he realized that the blonde was clenching her fists. 'Interesting,' he noted. 'More upset than a stranger should be, even a stranger who suspected I was a Death Eater.' Once more, Draco's silver eyes surreptitiously ran over the woman's face, again failing to match the face to a name. Pulling his attention away from her, he politely faced the panel when he realized he was being addressed.

"Mr. Keller, what specific market are you targeting with this product?" asked the large man with the smile. Draco stood silently as Steve mechanically answered the question, and the several that followed. The man doing the questioning – Jack Yorke – reminded him very much of someone he had known in America, and it was disconcerting.

"_You, boy, here."_

_It had been two days since the ruffians had stolen all of Draco's money, and he had resorted to wandering the streets, lifting fruit from outdoor markets if he could and going hungry when he couldn't. It was very lucky for him that it was a summer month; even then, it was chilly in San Francisco. He had sat down to have a rest outside of some sort of Muggle restaurant, when he had been approached. He had seen the big man give him a glance as he walked into the restaurant, and Draco was still sitting at the bench when the man came out, carrying a take out box. _

'_Filthy muggle,' Draco thought, outraged. 'Thinking that I'll eat his table scraps like some underbred mongrel.' Draco drew himself up in his seat and gave the man his best haughty stare. _

"_Look, there's no need to get uppity about it. It's just some food and I know you're probably hungry-"_

"_I do not need your," Malfoy's lip curled dangerously, an effort Lucius would have applauded, "food, did you call it? I am perfectly capable of managing, thank you very much."_

"_Whatever," the stranger snorted, holding his hand up as a sarcastic surrender. "I'm sure you're fine, pal, but I'll just leave it here." Without looking at Draco, the man set the box down on the bench next to Draco, then walked off with his hands in his pocket. Draco sat on the bench for a very long time, looking at the steam rising from the box, but then with a snort, he abruptly stood and left. He did not take the food with him._

"Well, that's all from me, then," Yorke was saying, leaning back in his chair. "Unless you have anything to add, Mr. Potter, Miss Weasley?" Mutely, the two shook their heads, the blonde's face turning bright red. Draco thanked his pureblood training for giving him the ability to not raise his eyebrows. 'So she's a Weasley, eh?' he thought, shaking hands with Yorke impassively. 'I wonder where the rest of the brood is then.' There was something awfully odd about running across Potter and Weasley together, but the new Draco didn't delve too far into it. He could see the panic in Weasley's eyes as he moved away from Yorke and looked at Potter and her. Stoically, Draco held his hand out for Potter to shake, which he did quickly. He considered doing the same to Weasley, but the poor girl looked so terrified at the prospect of touching him that he made do with a curt nod before sweeping out. He certainly had no wish to humiliate the girl, he thought with a sigh.

The store had the most distasteful displays Draco had ever seen, but he was growing desperate. A week upon arriving in San Francisco had found him dirty, hungry, and desperately in need of a livelihood. After much internal debate, he had swallowed his pride and abandoned the Malfoy mantra 'Malfoys never lower themselves to menial labor,' It was with a scowl that Draco entered the store, wincing as the door emitted a beep. Dragging his feet, he walked up to the counter and looked around for someone to assist him.

_"Can I help you?" a man wearing very tight jeans and a clingy turtleneck asked him in a nasal drawl. _

_"I'm looking for a job," Draco said imperiously, forcing himself to make eye contact. "What is the protocol for going about such a-" Draco's mouth worked, trying to find a word that described the unsavory act, "process?" _

_Much to Draco's embarrassment and fury, the man snorted, looking up and down at Draco's messy hair, dirty hands, and wrinkled appearance. "I can assure you that there is no work for you here," he scoffed, looking at Draco as if he were a joke, something inferior. Something clicked in Draco's brain and as he stood in front of that little man who so openly derided him, Draco knew that this was how he had so often looked at others. 'Filthy muggle,' his mind snarled. 'How dare you look at me like that? It is I who should be laughing at you, not the other way around!' Without a word, Draco spun on his heel and slunk out of the store, but not before he could hear the man call to another employee, "Mary! Guess what he wanted? He actually thought-" Draco ran outside before he could hear the rest of the sentence._

_Walking down the street and back toward the piers, Daco felt as if his head was full of bubotuber pus. Nothing was clear, and he moved as if underwater. Finally, as he came in view of the bay, a thought came to the forefront, one that had been working its way through the synapses for quite some time. That look that the retail man had given him, that look he recognized as one he used frequently, was not a nice look. Did he really deserve that look for asking for a job he needed in order to avoid starvation and to put a roof over his head? Draco didn't think so. _

_Maybe no one deserved to be looked at like that._

"Hey, snap out of it," Steve's bark brought Draco back to reality in the elevator. "How do you think it went?" Steve asked, wringing his hands.

"What's done is done, Steve," Draco said absently, wondering what now, indeed. "Let's just get back to the hotel and relax for a while."

"Are you going to go out?" Steve asked. "Don't you have old friends and family here?"

Draco pondered the suggestion before discarding it. 'There's no one left,' he thought tiredly, running a hand through his hair. 'Lucius is dead, Mother is dead, Crabbe and Goyle were pathetic company even in school and Pansy-" but his mind did not allow him to continue that train of thought. Instead he just shook his head.

"No, I'm tired, man. I just want to get to bed early. Might watch some TV or something." Steve nodded, then started rambling about how he was going to discover some clubs, and something about "buttering an English muffin" whatever that meant.

It would be a cold day in hell before Draco Malfoy admitted that he was happy to see Potter and Weasley, but in the darkest recesses of his mind, he had to admit that seeing them the next day made him feel slightly more at ease. 'It's just because they're familiar faces,' he told himself, still careful not to make eye contact. 'It's been so long since you saw anything you recognized.'

"Welcome back, Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Keller," the partner from the other day boomed cheerfully. "It's good to have you in again. As you've no doubt guessed, we've decided to go ahead and negotiate a term sheet." While Yorke and Steve talked back and forth about what they wanted, Draco wondered who had been responsible for the decision. 'Well, damn,' he thought with some surprise. 'Seems like Potter and the Weasley gave me a fair shot after all.' This, he determined, demanded some courtesy on his part. So after the terms meeting was over and they had adjourned for a brief lunch break, Draco followed them to the break room. There was an uncomfortable silence as the girl stuck her head in the refrigerator and Potter looked up at the clock with his hands in his pockets.

"Thank you," Draco said, breaking the quiet. Both Potter and Weasley looked at him then, Potter incredulous and Weasley blankly. "I don't know how much you were involved in that decision, but I'd like you to know it meant a great deal to my partner and I." Potter nodded, but Weasley just snorted and went back to rooting through the refrigerator. 'I should have known it wouldn't be that easy,' Draco thought ruefully, deciding to keep pushing.

"What brings you here?" he asked, knowing they would understand. "I would have thought-"

"Why do you care?" the girl asked rudely, slamming the fridge door. "In fact, why are you even talking to us? Aren't we somewhat below the touch of a _Malfoy_?" She tried to look to Potter for support, but the dark haired man shook his head at her.

"Why are you here?" Potter asked. "After the war, everyone thought you had died or run off to –" Potter cut himself off, obviously not wanting to mention Death Eaters. Draco ignored the accusation and answered smoothly.

"I went to America, actually. That's where I met up with Steve and got into this gaming business." Potter nodded and seemed inclined to continue the conversation, but the Weasley girl shot a betrayed look at her companion and stomped out.

"Sorry about Ginny, there," Potter said. "She hasn't quite moved on from the war and the old prejudices."

"And you have?" Draco asked, wondering why Potter was being so friendly.

"Mostly," Harry shrugged, frowning. "I mean, what were we fighting for? We fought the whole bloody war so that the purebloods would stop discriminating against muggles and muggle-borns. Seems stupid to turn it the other way around now, doesn't it?" Draco had to admit that Potter had a point. "And what about you, Malfoy? Why are you being so nice? It's not like how we remember, no offense."

Draco froze at the question. In all honesty, he hadn't thought about what would happen if he was asked about what had happened during the time he had been away. He may not hate Potter anymore, but he wasn't ready to share yet. Harry saw his consternation and gave a small smile.

"No need to tell me, if you don't want."

"Thanks, Potter, I'll pass on that."

"Just a warning though," Potter said as he checked his watch and began to move towards the door. "She'll want to know. And you might want to tell her something, or she'll be a real git while we're working on this project." As he walked out of the room, Draco pondered the problem that was Ginny Weasley. He really didn't relish the idea of sparring with that little hellion for the months or years they could be working together. 'What to tell her,' he wondered, thinking about all the things that had happened to him while in America. Some of the tales were sordid, some were shameful, one or two were violent. But others were better, nicer. Some were worth retelling.

Draco had lost sense of time. The month was irrelevant, he just wanted to stop the hunger. He had almost forgot that magic had ever existed in his life, lost were the luxuries he had grown up with. Instead, Draco scrounged for food, sometimes stealing money from tourists, even taking leftovers from restaurant tables left abandoned. He kept moving constantly, trying to avoid police and gangs.

_It was morning, the sun had risen a few hours ago, and Draco was wandering aimlessly down a side street close to China Town. There was a Laundromat, a sushi joint, and a market on his side of the street, and they could have been like any other stores in San Francisco. But they weren't. He heard the broom before he saw the woman sweeping with it. For a moment, he just stood and watched the sweep of the broom, a symbol from a past lifetime. The sound stopped, and he looked up with blank silver eyes to meet the almost black eyes of the shopkeeper. The two exchanged an estimating stare before she leaned the broom against the wall and dusted her hands off._

_"Come in," she said. She went inside, not waiting for him or turning to see if he would follow. Numbly, Draco obeyed, stepping inside a store for the first time in weeks, maybe months, he wasn't sure. The woman disappeared behind the checkout counter and returned with an apron. _

_"Put this on," she directed, just as shortly as before. Draco obeyed again, wrapping the straps around his neck and tying it shut at his waist. That was the day Draco Malfoy got his first job in America, at Leslie Corrigan's herb shop. It wasn't much by anyone's standards, much less that of a Malfoy. He swept the shop every few hours, he unpacked shipments, he catalogued orders and delivered packages. But as hard as Leslie made him work, she never let him starve either. Draco was able to scrap together a living, and before long, he had the means to buy a change of clothes, regular meals, and Leslie rented him the grungy flat above the shop for a meager fee. Once Draco had acquired a savings account with a few hundred dollars, he had been working for Leslie for slightly over a year. She walked in one day when there were no customers and ordered him to leave._

_"Get out," she said. Draco stopped sorting Basil and Thyme and looked up at her._

_"What?"_

_"It's time for you to get out," she said, one corner of her mouth quirking up. "Can't stay here forever, a smart thing like you. Get out there and do something better for yourself." And with that, he left. He never went back to the herb shop, but he never forgot it._

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**A/N: So during Thanksgiving break, which lasts until the 26****th**** or so, I won't be posting because I'm going home to be with friends, family, and fiancée. So you'll have to be patient for a while, my loves. Also, I love those of you who review/alert/favorite my story. And I'm not going to continue until I have at least one review per chapter. I think that's quite fair, really. Happy Thanksgiving, all!**


	7. In Which Things get Worse

**A/N: Okay, so I'm totally supposed to be doing some speed reading about Chechnya before class, but I can't stop thinking about how long it's been since I updated, so here I am, writing a chapter. Hopefully you'll all benefit from my detriment. **

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Chapter Seven: In Which Things Get Worse

There was no other option. The world had clearly gone stark, raving mad, and Ginny Weasley was struggling with how to make things normal again. Truthfully, she hadn't even thought about Draco Malfoy in a long time, years, in fact. But somehow, just seeing him again brought back all sorts of uncomfortable memories

"What the bloody hell is that – that little git doing here?" she snarled, pacing furiously in the living room. After work had let out for the day, she had driven home and cornered Harry on the couch, ranting relentlessly. Harry was mostly nonplussed by her performance; on the contrary, he found the situation almost amusing.

"Well, obviously he's pitching a company," Harry said mildly, unwisely deciding to bait Ginny. He withered under her icy glare, trying to placate her with a weak grin.

"Obviously, Harry, I'm not a fool," she said, advancing on her hapless roommate. "What I'd like to know is how in blazes I'm supposed to put up with his superiority complex while we're doing this deal. I want to know how the hell a Malfoy even _knows_ what a video game is, and I want to know _how_ he's controlling that poor lump of a Muggle he dragged to England with him. Hell, I want to know what he thinks he's even _doing_ here, after he split and run!" Returning to her pacing, she ran her fingers through her frizzing hair.

"Well, we could always ask, you know." Harry was apparently still craving verbal abuse, Ginny thought. Well, she was quite happy to oblige, since Malfoy wasn't here for her to shred.

"Harry. James. Potter." She enunciated slowly, speaking quietly, and Harry knew he was in for it. "Have you completely lost your senses? How many times has Malfoy tried to kill you? How much misery did he cause you in school? Have you forgotten who his parents were? Who he is and what he's done?"

Here, Harry tried to interject and defend himself, "Now, look, Gin, be reasonable."

"Reasonable?" she screeched, doing a fair imitation of her mother. "You're trying to talk to me about being _reasonable_? That brings me to another point; what possibly possessed you to second Jack's vote to give Malfoy funding? You knew I was dead set against working with them and yet you just-"

"Ginny, hear me out," Harry interrupted, recognizing that if he let her keep talking, she'd only make herself more enraged. "I didn't fund _Malfoy_, I funded his _company_, which it looks like his partner had a large hand in. Their premise looks good, the game looks interesting, I really think it could work. The gaming space is getting huge, and we need to get our hand in the running here." Seeing that she wasn't going to yell at him, he pressed on.

"Also, how old are we now? We aren't in school anymore. We've been through a war that changed the both of us, why not him as well? I didn't go through all of that agony just so that people could live lives of hatred afterwards."

Harry's voice had turned grim, Ginny noted. She knew Harry didn't like to talk about fighting Voldemort; he had spent too many years thinking of nothing else. Considering his words, she conceded that he just might have a point.

"But it's just so hard to see him again," she said, sinking onto the couch next to Harry. "I mean, we haven't seen anyone in so long, and then it finally comes and it has to be him. I spent my childhood hating him and his family, don't you see how that would be hard to overturn just because you say so?"

"Was he nasty when we saw him today?" Harry asked. Ginny thought back to everything that had transpired and had to admit that no, he hadn't been at all nasty. Quite cordial, actually. Harry saw her realization on her face and nodded approvingly.

"Harry, I'll try to get through this," Ginny said finally. "But I don't have to like it and I refuse to bow down to him."

"You don't have to, I never said that," Harry said firmly, sensing that her resolve was weakening. "Actually, you're the one in a position of power here. As the investor, he's taking orders from you, not the other way around." He stood up to rummage through the kitchen. He heard Ginny muttering to herself and smiled, knowing that the last vestiges of the Weasley temper would soon be gone.

"Alright," Ginny finally capitulated. "But one false move and I'm firing his arse." She looked at the clock and groaned. "Great, just look at the time. Blimey, it's already six o'clock. Where d'you suppose Ti is with Thom?"

"I dunno," Harry mumbled, flipping through some mail on the counter. "What were they doing today?"

"Oh, remember how Thom didn't fancy going outside? Well I think Ti was going to take him to the dinosaur museum and then come back here for a nap, then go ride the paddleboats at the park." Ginny laughed, remembering how Ti had been pleading with her son that morning.

flashback

"_Mate, please, can we go to the park this afternoon?"_

"_I dunno, I don't really want to."_

"_Thom, my very bestest pal in the entire world," Ti had thrown himself down on his knees before the giggling child. "I will die if we can't go to the park. I"ll just lie down and go splat!"_

"_Well, alright then," Thom said graciously, tugging on his nanny's hand. "But stand back up, I don't want you to splat on the floor, or Mummy will have to clean it up."_

"_That's a good boy," Ginny had cooed, while Harry erupted into hilarity in the background. "You tell Ti that if he needs to splat he can do it outside." Thom beamed up at his mother. Ginny redirected her attention to the melodramatic nanny. "Ti, I want you to be sure that Thom bundles up before you go outside, especially if you're going to be playing near the pond. It's getting chilly and he hasn't been feeling all that well, lately."_

"_Mummy, Mummy, can I wear the bear hat and mittens?" Thom clamored. The hat with bear ears and mittens with bear claws had been a gift from Harry last Christmas. Thom was very fond of dressing in them and pretending to be Paddington Bear, his favorite storybook character._

"_Of course, sweetie," Ginny said. "Ti, I'll put them on the counter here, so you don't have to carry them around the museum. You can just pick them up when you come back for Thom's nap and snack. Oh, and I remembered the debacle you made of Thom's snack time last week." Ti looked innocent, and Harry listened in, not having heard the most recent of Ti's mishaps._

"_Why, darling, I'm sure I have no idea-"_

"_Potato chips dipped in chocolate sauce?" Ginny asked, raising an eyebrow. "Hardly a snack I want my little boy to be eating. No, I fixed some celery shoots with peanut butter and raisins. It's in the fridge, in the blue container." She ignored Ti's grumbling about little boys having to eat like rabbits when finer cuisine was available, and kissed Thom goodbye before leaving for work._

end flashback

Frowning thoughtfully, Ginny checked the time again. It really was a little past six, which was odd, since Ti usually had Thom back in time for an early dinner. She was just experiencing the first niggling pangs of worry, when Harry's voice called her.

"Hey, Gin, didn't you put Thom's Paddington stuff out for Ti to pick up?"

"Yes, why?"

"Because – because it's still here."

Ginny leapt to her feet and ran to the kitchen, feeling steadily more anxious. Sure enough, the mittens were laying on top of the folded hat, in the exact same spot she'd left them that morning. Striding to the refrigerator, she threw it open, frantically searching through it.

"Harry, did you move anything in here when you were looking for food?"

"No, it's all just how it was. What's going on, Ginny?"

"I don't know!" she cried, her heart sinking when she saw Thom's snack, again, untouched from where it had sat that morning. She slammed the door shut and pressed her back against it. "Something's off, Harry. Thom's snack is still in there, and the mittens and hat are still there, it's like they never came home!"

"Could they still be at the museum?" Harry asked, stepping forward and grabbing Ginny's hands in support. "Maybe they didn't leave until later and Thom wanted to stay longer."

"No, that's not possible, the museum closes at 4:30, and it doesn't take anywhere near that long to get back home." Just when her panic reached its peak, her cell phone began to beep continually. She grabbed it from her pocket and looked at the ID.

Ti Blainey.

"Hello?" she said, answering the call. She put it on speakerphone so Harry could listen too.

"Ginny," Ti's voice was more serious than she had ever heard it. She instinctively knew what was coming and braced herself against the counter. "We're at the hospital." He didn't say why, but Ginny knew with some sort of mother's instinct that Thom was in trouble. Harry hadn't yet made the connection, though.

"Ti, it's Harry. What's wrong, are you alright? Were you in a car crash? Where's Thom?" Harry though that Ti was hurt, Ginny realized. Her thoughts seemed to slow down, floating through her head as her limbs went numb.

"Harry, it's not me," Ti continued, drawing a shaky breath. "It's – well, it's Thom. He collapsed in the museum and they've just finished questioning me. He's in urgent care, and you'd better get down here. They're waiting for you."

There was a silence, and Ginny realized the two men were waiting for her to say something, but she just couldn't. She had shut down, unable to deal with the idea that her son, her little boy, was sick. She just stood there, the tension growing as the static on the phone crackled.

"We're leaving now," Harry finally said. He exchanged terse directions with Ti before hanging up and walking to Ginny. He was about to comfort her, when she suddenly seemed to snap out of her trance, reverting to business mode.

"Harry, I want you to grab Thom's cookies, blanket, and some of his toys from his bedroom. I'm going to grab his medical file and adoption papers, then we'll go." She walked purposefully away, while Harry ran for Thom's bedroom.

A very nerve-wracking thirty minutes later found Harry and Ginny rushing through the hospital doors to meet a haggard looking Ti in the waiting room. He took the bag of Thom's things from Harry, but Ginny refused to relinquish her hold on Thom's files, clutching them to her chest.

"Where is he?" she asked frantically.

"He's stable," Ti assured her, "but unconscious. The doctor wants to talk to you before you see Thom." Ginny's face seemed impassive, but both Harry and Ti knew her well enough to read the stress in her face.

"Sweetheart," Ti said, taking her hand and pressing it between both of his, "it's going to be alright. We'll pull through and make sure Thom gets well again. Before you know it, he'll be racing around, making you kiss Donny and eating my potato crisps, eh?" But Ginny could not allow herself to feel comforted, could think of nothing but her son lying pale and prone on an uncomfortable hospital cot, alone and sick.

"Ginny Weasley?" a man in a doctor's uniform approached the group. "Dr. Reese here. I've been with your son today, and I think it's best if we talk." Ginny nodded, moving to follow Dr. Reese to his office. Harry followed quietly behind, leaving Ti in the lobby with a bag of toys.

"Have a seat, please, both of you," Dr. Reese invited, sitting behind his desk. "I've never been able to be anything but blunt, and I apologize for this. Your son has a heart condition called hypertrophic cardiomyopathy, or HCM." He looked to Harry and Ginny, who nodded blankly.

Seeming to take this as encouragement to continue, Dr. Reese said, "He fainted today because his heart muscle is thicker than it should be, which can obstruct blood flow, making it hard for the heart to pump properly. This can cause fainting, which is what happened today."

"How did this happen?" Harry asked, taking the role of the concerned parent, as Ginny was going back into shock. "And how serious is this for the boy?"

"Well, while unfortunate, this type of cardiomyopathy isn't especially fatal and there are treatments for children. No one is quite sure why this heart condition occurs, although it could be genetic. Is there a history of heart failure in either of your families?"

"Oh, no," Ginny interjected, coming back to reality. "We aren't the parents. Thom is adopted."

"I see," the doctor nodded, opening a folder and jotting a note down. "That makes it harder to predict how the disease will take its course, then. What was he like in his infancy?"

Ginny shared a woeful look with Harry. "Unfortunately, we don't know much about that, either. I adopted Thom when he was eighteen months old. He was in an orphanage until that point." Noticing that she still had Thom's files in her hand, she pushed them across the desk.

"Those are his medical files and adoption papers," Harry said. The rest of the meeting seemed to pass in a blur for Ginny, as she let Harry field the questions. She was conscious of shaking the doctor's hand and following him into the elevator, then down a corridor.

And then she saw him. Thom. He was so pale, lying on his side under the thin bed sheets. An IV was plugged to his wrist, and her heart broke to see how pale he was and hear his labored breathing. Wordlessly, she pulled a chair to sit next to the bed, gently rubbing Thom's hair.

She lost track of the time, but she heard Harry coming in and leaving several times, then heard him whisper that he'd give her excuses at work the next day, then he left for the night, leaving Ginny to sit with her son and wonder what would happen to him.

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**AN: So there you have it. And being the benevolent thing that I am, I'm in the process of writing the next chapter right now, which will probably go up in a few hours. Happy belated Thanksgiving, I hope none of you gained as much weight as I did.**


	8. In Which Things get Dangerous

**AN: So some of you may have noticed that the timelines between the three perspectives are somewhat shifty. The Draco and Ginny lines match up pretty well, but there's no telling when Hermione's perspective is in relation to the other two. Just so you know, they could be separated by several months, but it doesn't matter; they'll end up colliding eventually. So don't worry.**

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Chapter Eight: In Which Things Get Dangerous

Hermione tried to stop her hands from shaking as she removed her Ron Journal from its hiding place. 'This has been the worst day yet,' she thought as she sat down to write. 'I'm not sure what to do, except to go on as I have been.' Licking the tip of her quill, she began to chronicle what had occurred that morning.

_ Today is Friday. Ron ordered me to make breakfast again. He usually starts by rolling over in bed and shaking me awake, saying, "I need to get up now, make me some eggs and toast." _

_The first few times, I thought it was a joke, but I've come to realize that he doesn't joke anymore. I made eggs for him, and I used milk and bacon bits, which is a recipe I got from Ginny. _

_As soon as Ron saw them, I knew I had erred, and he went from typical Grumpy Morning Ron to Enraged over Family Matters Ron. He screamed at me for introducing an element of Ginny to his house, then he picked the plate up and threw it into the sink, breaking it._

_He continued to berate me for being so thoughtless and stupid, and I realized that it was my fault. If I had just been more thoughtful, been a little more aware, I would have realized that the recipe was a bad idea. So much for being the brightest witch of my age._

_The worst part was that on the way out, Ron kicked Crookshanks. Not just a nudge with his toe to get him out of his way, but a full blown kick that made Crookshanks fly a few feet and land on his side. _

_Ron just stared at me, as if he was daring me to say something, and then he just left. I took care of Crookshanks once he left. _

Hermione stared at what she had written. She had almost left the part about Crookshanks out, but this was her diary, and she had sworn to write down everything, no matter how heinous. 'Stupid,' she thought angrily. 'Stupid to provoke him and stupid not to defend yourself and stupid to let him attack your cat. What's wrong with you, Hermione?'

The worst part of the whole thing, she decided later as she cleaned up the mess Ron had made, was that she realized she was falling into a pit. She was aware of her self-deprecating thoughts and the way they correlated to what Ron said to her.

She was scared of Ron, when she had not been afraid to die by his and Harry's sides when facing Voldemort. She was scared of Ron's violence, when she had faced down Death Eaters and dementors. The whole thing was silly, really, but she felt like the weight of the conflict was driving her mad. And there was no one to talk to.

Or was there? Hermione had tried very, very hard to forget that a certain Weasley existed. Namely, Percival. If she didn't think about him, she could forget the humiliation of being attracted to him, somehow. However, she could not deny that he was a friend, and he had offered to listen to her. She thought about spending the day alone at home, and shuddered. She would call on Percy. Checking the clock she saw that it was almost ten o'clock; he would be at the Ministry, then.

It was only after she had Apparated that she realized that if Percy were at the Ministry, Ron would be too. And if Ron found her there, he would ask her why she was there. And if she told him she was there to see Percy-

"Hermione! What are you doing here?" a familiar voice called. Closing her eyes tightly, she turned slowly to face her husband. Frowning, Ron strode over to her.

"I-I just-" she stuttered, not sure what to say.

"Blimey, woman," Ron huffed. "If you wanted to apologize, you could have waited until I got home. You didn't have to come here to do it, you know. What if I'd been busy? Try to have some sense." Hermione inwardly bristled at his assumption and condescension, but was also thankful that he had supplied her with a cover story.

"Ron? Hermione?" another voice called, and Hermione almost groaned. As if this situation could become any more awkward or dangerous for her.

"Great," Ron muttered, "here comes Percy. This is all your fault." And again, Hermione was forced to agree with him. Percy came up to them, eyeing Ron's hand clamped around her forearm and her obvious distress.

"Is everything alright here?" he asked Ron. "Is Hermione in trouble?"

"No, we're fine," Ron said shortly, not making eye contact. "Reckon you should get back to whatever you were doing."

"Good morning, Hermione," Percy nodded to her, ignoring his brother. "Is everything okay?"

"She's fine, I said," Ron blustered, growing more frustrated by the second. While he fumed silently, looking away, Percy directed his gaze at Hermione's face. Not knowing why, she let her mask slip ever so slightly, granting him a peek into her turmoil. His eyes widened fractionally as he took in her fear, and he nodded again to Ron.

"Right then, I'll see you at Sunday dinner," Percy said abruptly, before spinning on his heel and walking away. Hermione felt her heart sink a little, knowing that he wouldn't rescue her from Ron. She pulled her arm out of his grip and straightened her sweater.

"I'll just go home, Ron," she said quietly.

"See that you do," he said. "You quit your job at that bookstore so you could spend more time at home. You don't need to be swanning around here." She nodded, wanting to scream at him that _he_ had technically quit her job for her and that _he _was the one who thought that there was plenty to do around the house. As she was heading back outside to Apparate, he called her name again.

"Oh, and Hermione, will you make a roast for dinner? Neville's coming over tonight, and he likes a good roast." Not trusting herself to speak, she nodded jerkily before turning to Apparate.

'Ron is so frustrating,' she thought once she was in the kitchen. Angry tears bubbled over and ran down her cheeks as she bent down to retrieve the utensils she needed to make his precious roast. As she stood back up, she heard the distinctive crack that signified someone had Apparated onto the front porch. Puzzled, she wondered who it was, as Ron wasn't due home for hours.

"Hermione, it's me," Percy's voice called. "Are you home?" Wiping her eyes hurriedly, she went to the door to let him in.

"Percy, what are you doing here?"

"What's going on? What was that today? Something isn't right here, and have you been crying?"

Hermione's head was reeling. Did she dare break down here and now? No, she had a roast to prepare, she thought vaguely.

"Percy, have a seat at the table, I need to put this food in to cook and then I'll come talk." He stood behind her stubbornly, just like a Weasley, she thought. Using magic, she quickly finished her task, then led Percy to sit at the kitchen table.

"Alright, what do you want to know?" she sighed.

"Why were you at the Ministry today?" he asked.

Hermione bit her lip, not wanting to admit that she was going to see him. "I-I was just looking for Ron to apologize for an argument we got into this morning."

"Bollocks." Hermione's eyes flew open to hear his coarse language. "I know you're lying to me. What was it really?"

"I was looking for you," Hermione burst out, eyes shifting as if looking for an escape. 'This is not good, not good at all,' she thought, trying to calculate how she could get out of this conversation.

Upon hearing her statement, Percy's eyes took on a stony glint. Nervous as she was, Hermione was captivated by the depth of Percy's stare. His jaw worked silently as he studied his hands. She could tell that he had already formed some conclusions about her and Ron and was trying to decide the best way to approach the difficult questions he wanted to ask.

"And why were you looking for me?"

"I needed someone to talk to," she admitted softly. He didn't say anything. The minutes passed in silence. Percy waited patiently, never looking away from her face, and eventually, she continued.

"I'm still having difficulty with Ron, and it's getting worse. Today, he hurt Crookshanks and broke the dishes and I'm just so scared of what's happening." To her dismay, she realized that the tears had come back, and she stood to get a box of tissues. Percy stood as well, taking the tissues from her hands.

He was standing quite close, she realized. She could smell the cinnamon on his breath from the porridge he ate every morning. She saw the crows feet lines at the edges of his eyes that were just starting to develop. She saw the waves in his hair, the speckles of gold in his brown eyes. She saw Percy, and she saw him looking at her with something she hadn't seen in his eyes before. Then again, she had never been this close, either.

The hug felt natural. She slipped into his arms and looped hers around his neck. She pressed her face into his chest as he held her, feeling the way their bodies fit together. Ron was quite tall, and rather bulky from working out, and she had never felt entirely comfortable being in his arms. Percy was slightly shorter and leaner, not having the rugged physique of his younger brother. And yet, Hermione felt much more at ease being held by Percy, not quite so frail.

She stepped back slightly and took his hand. Something had just transpired between them; they were more than friends but not quite lovers, and she wanted time to ponder that before things progressed any further.

"Come with me, I want to show you something," she said, leading him to her bedroom. She used a Summoning Charm to bring forth her Ron Journal, and she tapped the front cover with her wand, rendering the invisible ink readable.

"This is the diary in which I keep record of Ron's behavior," she said, handing him the journal. "I try to be as accurate as possible, and I make notations every day. You wanted to know what was wrong, and it's all in there." Gulping nervously as he flipped to the front page, she faltered. "I-I don't think I could possibly tell you, that might make it a bit too real. But if you read it-"

Hermione was interrupted by the sound of Apparation. With a gasp, she heard Ron's footsteps mounting the porch steps. "It's Ron!" she whispered, wringing her hands. "He'll hear you if you Apparate, what do we do? He can't find you here!"

Percy put a finger to her trembling lips and shushed her. Stroking her cheek with one hand, he bent down and kissed her forehead before stepping quickly into her closet and shutting the door. Hermione hurried out of the room and made it back to the kitchen, just in time to greet Ron as he strolled through the door. He was carrying a bag of groceries, to Hermione's great surprise.

"I've just brought some green beans, so you can make that casserole thing you make on the holidays," he said. "D'you want to talk about what happened this morning?"

No, she most certainly did not want to talk about the argument. Being with Percy seemed to have fortified her flagging spirits. She had to fight to keep her tongue from lashing out, so instead she gathered the green beans and began to wash them. Ron took this as an invitation to continue.

"Look, I realize you're not a morning person, 'Mione, but you're really letting yourself go," he chided her. "Can't even fix a proper breakfast anymore, well," he sighed dramatically. "But not to worry, Mum can help you learn how to manage, you know." Through this speech, Hermione was chopping the beans, grateful for something to do that would allow her to avoid eye contact.

She really didn't need him to see how angry she was.

"And Percy, what a ponce," Ron was starting in on his brother now. "He needs to keep his nose out of other peoples' business. When I can't have a conversation with my wife in public, honestly…" he kept talking, but Hermione had stopped listening. Lost in her own thoughts of Percy, she failed to realize that Ron was heading back to the bedroom.

'The bedroom, oh Merlin, the closet! Percy!' she thought in a panic, rushing after her husband.

"Ron, do you need something?" she called, hoping to both stall him and warn Percy.

"Yeah, I spilled something on my jacket, I was just going to get another one out of the closet before I went back to work," Ron said, opening the door to the bedroom. There was nothing she could do, Hermione thought. This was it. She held her breath as Ron threw the closet door open wide and found-

Nothing.

There was no sign of Percy. Hermione's brow scrunched as she tried to wrap her mind around what her senses were telling her. She had not heard the door opening, nor had she heard him Apparate away. Therefore he must still be in the closet, but she didn't see him.

"I'll see you tonight, when Neville gets here. Don't burn the roast," Ron said, grabbing a blue coat and brushing past her. In a moment, he was gone, and Hermione was still confused.

"Percy?" she called softly, feeling foolish. And suddenly he materialized, curled into a ball on the closet floor. She laughed in surprise and relief as he grumbled and fought his way out of the clothes. "What on earth-"

"Disillusionment Charm," he answered, grinning wryly. "Ron never learned how to properly identify them in school, and Fred and George were always taking advantage of that to play tricks on him. He never expected it from Percy the ponce."

Hermione reddened. "Oh dear. Did you hear everything he said? I'm so sorry, Percy."

"Don't be," he said simply. "You're not responsible for anything Ron does. And don't let him get to you. You're not stupid, and there's nothing wrong with you at all. Nothing." His voice became tender and the way he looked at her made her quiver unconsciously.

Percy glanced at his watch and grimaced. "I have to be getting back, unfortunately. I just wanted to make sure you were okay, and now that I know you aren't, I'm going to figure out a way to help you." He came closer again, and Hermione's breath hitched.

Slowly, Percy leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. It was very chaste, but Hermione knew that it was the start of something very, very illicit and very, very welcome.

"Take care of yourself, Hermione. I'll come visit you again soon." And then he left.

Hermione knew that what she was considering, what she had sort of done that very day, was immoral and wrong. 'Who would have thought me to be a scarlet woman?' she wondered as she touched her lips. It was a dangerous game she was playing, but Hermione was tired of being ordered about and verbally abused. Until she figured out what to do in the long run, a tryst with Percy might be just what she needed to regain some independence and get herself back on track.

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**AN: Alrighty, loves. I need at least two more reviews before I'll post any more. And as soon as I see those reviews have been posted, I'll start the next chapter, even if it's tonight (and I have two papers to write). Thank you to all my reviewers, it really means a lot to me that you take the time to do what you do, even if it's just a few words or a smiley face or whatever.**

**Also, I got a new laptop, which seems to make the formatting of this stuff easier. So don't lose hope, things are looking up.**


	9. In Which Things get Slightly Better

**AN: I want to apologize for my delays. Final term papers and all that nonsense. Also a bit of writer's block. But I decided enough is enough and I owe you at least a weekly update. Thank you to my lovely readers and reviewers, as always.**

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Chapter Nine: In Which Things get Slightly Better

One thing Draco had not missed about England was the unbearable climate. 'Was it always so gray?' he wondered to himself as he stared out the window of the hotel room. 'Did it always rain this much?' Having spent the last six years in one of the sunniest spots on earth, Draco had lost his pale pallor.

"So do you want to tell me about the tension between you and the principals?" Steve's voice came from behind Draco. He stiffened a little bit, not knowing how much to tell Steve.

"What tension?" Draco said blithely.

Steve snorted and waved a hand. "Please. The guy was totally gobsmacked to see you and Goldilocks acts like she wants to rip your throat out."

"I don't – wait, gobsmacked? Where did you pick _that _up?" Draco questioned, vastly amused at his American friend's use of British colloquiums.

"Uh, some girl at the club last night kept saying it. And your British talk is contagious," Steve sniffed. "You're avoiding the question."

"We went to school together, before I came to America," Draco said. "Boarding school, for seven years, and we didn't exactly get along." 'More like, I was a prick and harassed them all the time,' he though privately, although he certainly didn't plan on sharing that with Steve.

"Well, shit," Steve snickered. "You know, it's no wonder you haven't gotten laid in like six years; you go around pissing off the hottest chicks."

"_Weasley_?" Draco said incredulously. "A hot chick? Have you lost your mind?"

"Have _you_ lost _yours_?" Steve cried. "Just check her out at work today, I'll bet you fifty bucks that you'll agree with me."

"But-she's not even a natural blonde," Draco protested, before realizing how odd that made him sound.

Steve shrugged. "Hey, half the world isn't. Doesn't mean she's not hot though. I'd definitely do her." As Steve walked away to take a shower and get dressed to go into the office, Draco frowned. Something about his insensitive, pudgy partner buggering the Weasley girl – _Ginny_ – annoyed him. 'You just see her as the innocent school girl she was six years ago,' he thought. 'That's why it's weird to see her and Steve together.'

Steve was singing "Smack my Bitch Up" in the shower again, Draco noticed a second later.

'No, it's just weird because she wouldn't be found dead with a guy like Steve,' Draco snorted, and then thought nothing more of Ginny Weasley until he and Steve arrived at work several hours later.

Draco had a serious epiphany upon arriving at the Yorke Ramsay office building.

"You're never driving again, you arsehole," he snarled, clawing his way out of the rental car. "You're a bloody menace to the road!"

"Oh shut up," Steve sulked. "It's not like you know how to drive, you bastard."

"Yes, but at least I can tell the _left_ side of the road from the _right _side, Keller!"

"Yes, well, at least if we crash, they don't have to buy us coffins, they can just bury us in the car," Steve sniffed.

Draco had to admit that the cars in Britain were smaller than the ones in America, but Steve's perspective did very little to improve his mood. "No. I'm driving back to the hotel, OR we'll take a cab," he said seriously, meaning every word. "And I will knock you over the head and stuff you in the trunk if you try to argue with me." He was only half-joking.

While Steve grumbled about pushy bastards who didn't even own a car wanting to drive, Draco thought about his relationship with Steve. When he had met Steve, he didn't have any roots down, really. Draco had been accustomed to a subtle, carefully sculpted set of rules of interaction; Steve was so overwhelming that he just forced himself in.

He had been offensive, crude, and intolerable at first, but he had offered a good opportunity, and Draco has learned how to look for the slightest opportunity. After a while, he became resigned to working with the Muggle oaf, and then, very slowly, he began to enjoy the American's company. It had taken about a year for Draco to crack a smile in front of Steve.

"_So Janine broke up with me," the fat man was saying. Draco listened with one ear as he continued making his chart. "There goes a great screw."_

"_I'm sorry," Draco said blankly, not looking up._

"_I just don't know what I did wrong!" Steve groaned, beginning to pace. "She wanted romance, and I gave her romance, I just-"_

"_Can you shut up? I'm working on some stats here," Draco interrupted._

"_No, I have to get this off my chest."_

_Draco sighed, pushing away from the desk and looking impatiently at his partner. "And once you get this sodding nonsense off your chest, as you put it, we can resume working?"_

"_Yes."_

_Draco rubbed his temples, trying to maintain his composure with the idiot. "Alright, let's hear it then."_

"_Well, it was our six month anniversary, and she wanted to do something special, go out or something, I don't know."_

"_Where did you take her?" Draco asked._

"_Oh man, there's this great place in Berkeley called the Smoke House that has the best hot dogs and milk shakes," Steve enthused, almost drooling. _

"_And what time was your reservation?" Draco asked._

"_Reservation? What the fuck do you need a reservation for at a drive-through hot dog joint?" Steve scoffed. Draco was shocked._

"_You took her to _fast-food_ for your anniversary?"_

"_Hey, it's damn good food, better than most of those froo-froo places."_

"_What was she wearing?" Draco asked pointedly, foreseeing where this was going._

"_Uh, a black dress."_

"_Was her hair up or down?"_

"_Up, I think."_

"_Was she wearing make-up?"  
"Yeah, she looked really good-oh."_

"_Yes, oh," Draco said. "So she got all dolled up to have a night on the town, a night of romance, and you took her to some run down greasy shack and didn't even let her out of the car. Anything else I should know about?"_

"_Well, yes." Here, Steve shifted, and Draco became more interested. Steve was never uncomfortable, whatever he was hiding ought to be good._

"_I stopped at the florist and bought her roses after dinner," Steve said. "They do it in the movies, you know?" Draco nodded, encouraging Steve to continue._

"_Anyway, so I buy her the flowers and hide them in the back seat. We're driving back home, when I notice she's sniffing more than usual, and when we stop at the next light, she looked at me and, well,"_

_"Spit it out!" Draco fairly shouted._

_"Her face was completely swollen and blotchy and I think I screamed. Then she screamed, and the cars were honking and I was stuck in the car with that _face_ and she just yelled at me to take her to the hospital. Apparently she's deathly allergic to roses. As they were wheeling her in for emergency treatment on the gurney, she told me she never wanted to see me again."_

_Draco stared at Steve in silent disbelief before giving a genuine smile of amusement. Steve's jaw dropped at seeing his stoic partner unbend and Draco quickly stifled his expression, but it was too late. Steve had gotten a foot through the door, and he knew it._

It was not until a few minutes into the meeting with Yorke and Harry that Draco realized Ginny wasn't there. He wasn't sure if she was supposed to be, but judging by the shadows under Harry's eyes, something was wrong. Draco liked to think that he was good at reading Harry; he had spent seven years torturing him, after all.

He wondered if it would be appropriate for him to inquire after Ginny. 'Why the hell not?' he thought. 'It can only be a good thing if we get off to a proper start, and I might as well be the one to start it.'

The lunch hour once again found Harry and Draco alone in the break room.

"So, Harry, is Ginny alright? I noticed she wasn't in today."

Harry looked a little uncomfortable. "Er, you said my name."

Draco was confused. "What, Harry? Should I call you something else?"

"No, you just never called me by my first name before, it's a little odd to tell you the truth."

"Sorry," Draco apologized easily. "Americans are a little less formal, and I suppose I've forgotten how to be properly dignified."

Harry offered a small smile at this. "Well, to be honest, it's a personal family matter of hers, and I don't think she'd appreciate me spreading it about."

Draco nodded, not very surprised. "That's fair enough. Is it too personal for you to tell me how you ended up in the Muggle world?" Harry studied him, thinking about it.

"Well, Ginny and I kind of ran away together," Harry started slowly. Seeing the surprise in Draco's face, Harry shook his head frantically. "No, not like that. See, the Weasleys, well, everyone I guess, always thought we'd end up married. And we didn't want that."

"So you left, to get away from the pressure." Draco knew there had to be more to the story than that; the boy who defeated Lord Voldemort could hardly be frightened off by a bit of peer pressure. However, he decided not to push it. "What about Ron and Hermione?"

Harry shook his head a bit. "Sorry, you don't know how _weird_ it is to hear you say their names like that. They got married, and I haven't spoken to them since we left. And Ron-" Harry stopped here, looking grim. "Well, let's just say I'm not in any particular hurry to go back." They sat in silence for a while before Harry pulled himself out of his thoughts. "Why did you go to America?"

Draco knew this question was bound to turn up, and he was ready for it. "Well, after my father was killed, my mother was put in Azkaban. There was very little chance that she would be let out, and so she asked me to help her." He found it difficult to think about his mother's final actions, but for reasons almost unknown to himself, he found that he wanted to tell Harry about his weakest moment. "She asked me to bring her poison, so she could take her own life."

Harry's eyes were wide, but he said nothing, for which Draco was grateful.

"After she was gone, I felt like I needed to get out, just go anywhere. It didn't help that as the last Malfoy, the Ministry was keeping close tabs on me. I resorted to Muggle transportation so they couldn't trace me. I went to America, San Francisco, to be exact."

"Why?" Harry asked. "I mean, I can see that you've changed, but back then, why would you leave all your money, your friends-"

"I didn't have anyone left." Draco's throat constricted. "They were all dead or in prison, and my money, the Manor, were just reminders of what I had lost. Anyway, I just needed to clear my head, so I ended up in America. I hadn't even been there a day when I was mugged. Snapped my wand, took all my ID and money. I was homeless for a long time before I started to get some little jobs. Eventually Steve found me, and here I am."

Harry contemplated this in silence. Draco felt compelled to get through to Harry. He was struck by how long it had been since he could confide in someone, anyone.

"I wasn't happy, not for a long time. Can you imagine a Malfoy homeless, living without magic, and never having worked a day in his life? It was awful." Draco laughed dryly. "There were times when I almost threw myself into the Bay, but I thought about everyone else who died and I just couldn't give it all up like that." He checked the wall clock, which said they had five minutes before it was time to get back to work.

"Anyway, I just felt like we should get reacquainted," he said, running a hand through his hair.

"Thanks Mal-Draco." Harry said, extending a hand. "I appreciate it." The two men shook hands, and Draco felt lightened. He had made good progress with Harry today.

Apparently, the universe had decided that there was yet more progress to be made that day. Harry and Draco were walking out of the building discussing market strategies, when Harry broke off with a yelp.

"Bloody hell! My car!" The windows had been smashed, and one of the side mirrors was missing. Keyed in the blue paint were three words: SLAG, PONCE, SNITCH. Harry ran over, opening the door. It wasn't locked, as the handle had somehow been gouged out. Draco saw him remove a piece of paper and read it.

"Harry, what's going on? Who did this?" he asked angrily, surveying the damage. "Is that a letter?"

Harry shoved it into Draco's hand while he continued to rummage through the car, looking for clues. Draco read the note with rising trepidation.

_Dearest Harry,_

_I know where you live, and I know where you work. Did you think you could get away so easily? I'll be watching you and your pretty little friend._

The note was not signed. Draco was shaken. 'Six years ago, this would have been an ordinary occurrence, but it seems like living with Muggles has put us both out of practice.' Harry's groan brought Draco back to reality.

"Well where do we even start with this?" Draco asked, trying to be calm.

"I don't know," Harry moaned, tugging at his hair. He seemed to be going into shock, Draco noted with alarm.

"Okay, let's think. Wizard or Muggle?"

"Muggle, probably," Harry said. "Gin and I haven't contacted any wizards in years."

"Is there anyone who you've managed to piss off lately?"

"No I don't- _oh_!" Harry gasped. "Shitbuggerpissingarsehole, I know who it is. We've got to go find Ginny." Draco was still a little surprised at his diatribe, but tried to refocus.

"Do you need a ride? You obviously can't drive that out of here," he said.

"Thanks. We need to go to the hospital on Kensborough." It was a tense drive to the hospital, and Draco was so caught up in thinking about Harry's car that he didn't even think to wonder why they were going to a hospital. It was only after they were walking inside and striding down a white corridor that smelled of antiseptic and lemon that Draco began to wonder why they were there.

Room 145 was small and dark, and Draco could make out a small figure surrounded by tubes and beeping machines.

"Harry?" a tired voice sounded from the corner. Both men turned to see Ginny getting up from an uncomfortable looking chair. "What are you doing here?" She hadn't spotted Draco, who was standing behind Harry, but when Harry moved forward to take Ginny's hand, she stiffened. "What is _he_ doing here?" she hissed.

"Ginny, we have to go outside and talk," Harry said. Ginny followed him out, shooting a glare at the blond wizard, then crossed her arms.

"Harry, what were you-"

"He totaled our car." Harry burst out, tugging at his messy hair again.

"_What_?" Ginny screeched. She whirled on Draco and jabbed a finger to his chest. "You did _what_?"

"No, Gin, not Draco, Armando." Ginny deflated and looked back at Harry.

"Who?" she asked, crinkling her brow.

"The guy from last week," Harry muttered, looking down. "The date rape one."

Draco found it odd that Harry would talk about such things in front of him, even if Draco didn't understand everything. He cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the other two.

"Listen, I don't really know what's going on, but if there's anything I could do, let me know," Draco offered earnestly. He was met by a stony glare from Ginny. Harry saw Ginny's mouth open and hurriedly dragged her into the corner. Draco watched the two conversing, and was amused to see when Ginny sullenly nodded and scuffed her shoe on the ground.

'She looks just like the young girl I remember,' he thought fondly, before catching himself. 'Come off it, she's a grown woman who hates you. Try to remember that, and don't go making a git of yourself.'

"Thanks," Harry said, coming back over to Draco with Ginny trailing behind. "Um, if you could give us a ride home, we can work everything else out. But we need to stay here a little longer, to check Thom out of the hospital."

"Thom?" Draco inquired, thinking of the small person lying in the hospital bed.

"My son," Ginny spoke up, looking him in the eye. Draco was completely taken aback, but he knew better than to say anything or betray his feelings in his expression.

"I'm sorry," he said again, honestly. Ginny's eyes flew to meet his, searchingly, and then she nodded before going back into the room and gently shutting the door.

**AN: Thanks for your patience and your love. Review please, or I'll never get through this week. **


	10. She Questions

**AN: Great. I decided to write one chapter today and now I can't help but keep writing. I just knew this would happen. And if you're launching into this chapter thinking "WAIT THEY LEFT STEVE AT THE OFFICE!" then please calm down. Steve needs things to explode over, or he would not be the Steve that we all know and adore. And they'll remember him…eventually.**

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Chapter Ten: She Questions

It was night. Ginny was spending yet another night sitting by Thom's bed as he slept, even though he was safe in his own bed. Thom had been awake off and on during the day, and at the moment he had succumbed to slumber again. Ginny absentmindedly smoothed the covers, thinking about a certain blond bastard.

"It's just so odd, Thom," she said. Ginny had decided that talking to Thom was the only way she could avoid going insane. "I mean, he just suddenly pops up and he's totally different." She chewed her lip.

"I'm not looking for a fight, sweetie, honestly I'm not. It's just that seeing him again makes all the old feelings wake up again, and it's been a long time."

"What feelings, Mummy?" Thom's voice piped up softly, causing Ginny to gasp and startle in her seat.

"Baby, you're awake?" she asked nervously. "I'm so sorry, Thom, I didn't mean to wake you up?"

Thom regarded her steadily. He had always been a rather serious child, and even Ti had recognized him as a truly precocious boy. Why, he was almost four and he was already starting to recognize basic words, Ginny thought with pride. Her musing was interrupted again by her son.

"Mum, are you sad?" Thom asked carefully, still regarding his parent.

"Yes, I am," she answered. Ginny decided to talk to Thom as if he were an adult. She and Harry had tried not to baby Thom, having heard that it could impede his development.

"Why?"

"Most of it is because you're sick Thom. But," Ginny almost laughed at the strangeness of having such a grown up conversation with her toddler son. "Some of it is because a friend has come back, a friend who I haven't seen in a very long time." Ginny certainly didn't consider Draco Malfoy to be a friend, but she didn't want to complicate things too much for Thom.

"Friends are good though." Thom replied with a child's simplicity. "What is the friend's name?"

"His name is Draco, Draco Malfoy. Draco means dragon, just like Donny," Ginny said. "And this friend makes me feel angry sometimes, and scared."

"Oh." Thom seemed to mull this over. "Did he say bad things to you?"

"N-no," Ginny said, thinking about it. To be honest, Draco hadn't said a single thing out of line.

"Is he mean to Uncle Harry?" Thom asked.

"No, Thom, he's nice to everyone."

"Then why does he make you angry?" Thom asked, obviously confused.

"Because he used to be very mean, six years ago," Ginny tried to explain.

"Six years," Thom said. "That's a looooong time, Mummy." And Ginny had to admit that her son had an excellent point. She could see him getting tired again, so she leaned forward and pressed a kiss against his forehead.

"Shh, it'll all be okay sweetie. Go back to sleep, I'll be right here when you wake up." Thom nodded sleepily and within moments, was sleeping again.

What to do about the issue of Draco Malfoy, she wondered? On the one hand, Malfoy had stood for everything unpleasant, evil, and rotten in her life, but that had been a rather long time ago.

She tried to think back to his supposed Death Eater days. 'Did he ever kill anyone?' she thought, trying to remember. 'No, I don't think so. Did he have the Dark Mark?' He couldn't have had it though, because she had seen his arm on the day he presented, and it had clearly been markless.

It was not a proud moment for Ginny when she realized that she had been acting horribly toward Draco without warrant. 'Bugger it all,' she thought sourly. 'I've made a right cock-up of this. How are we supposed to get along when I've come off as a total arse for the past week?' Well, perhaps Malfoy would overlook her behavior because of Thom. 'Playing the pity card, Ginny? Oh, that's low.'

The next day dawned bright and early, waking Ginny up. She exited Thom's room to find Harry sitting at the kitchen table scowling blackly into the phone.

"Yes, it was damaged completely beyond repair." _Insurance_ he mouthed to her as the person on the other line responded.

"No, I didn't get into an accident, for the fourth time, I was _inside_ my office while my car was vandalized in the _parking lot_." Ginny rolled her eyes, thankful she didn't have to deal with Muggle salespeople, especially insurance agents.

"I beg your pardon?" Harry asked incredulously. "No, I certainly will not wait while you transfer me- hello? _Hello?_ Well, bollocks to you, too!" He slammed the phone down, and Ginny tried not to giggle.

"Bloody- fifth transfer- all I want-_my car_-" Harry was choking and pulling his hair in frustration, and Ginny decided to intervene before her friend had a heart attack.

"So, I take it that that didn't go well?" she asked lightly, pouring herself a cup of orange juice.

"The wankers are unbelievably disorganized," Harry burst out. Redirected me three times, and I'll swear on my deathbed that it was the same two people just bouncing me back and forth for a laugh!"

"Let's not worry about them right now," Ginny said, sobering up. "Now, what the hell is with this Armando character?"

"He's mad, utterly mad," Harry muttered, putting his head down on the table. "I had no idea he was like this. I'm so sorry, Gin."

"Look, here's what we're going to do," Ginny said. "We're going to sell the flat, buy a new one, and buy a new car with new plates."

"What?" Harry spluttered. "Gin, that's mental, we can't-"

"Look," Ginny said seriously. "You want to know what's mental? Armando is mental. And I'm not going to stay here knowing that he can be watching my son. And what about Ti? You and I can defend ourselves, but Ti and Thom are defenseless."

Harry nodded dumbly. "You're right, of course. Maybe Ti will go in on it with us, I mean, he spends most of his time with us anyway."

"Yeah, and it'll be good to have another person with Thom all the time," Ginny agreed. "I don't want him alone, not with Armando running around."

Luckily, this plan was developed on a Saturday, so Ginny and Harry had plenty of time to delve through the real estate listings. Money was no object; both Harry and Ginny made excellent wages at the venture capital firm, as did Ti with his consulting. It was with this consideration in mind that Ginny decided she wanted to move into a house.

"Look, if we're on our own property, we can put up proper security," she said. "Concealment charms, magical trashbins, whatever."

"What, magic?" Harry said, surprised. "But we never use it!"

"And maybe that's silly of us," Ginny countered. "We never needed to be alert, after the war. But now that we do need it, why shouldn't we do things right?"

"I don't know," Harry considered. "I mean, yeah, it'd give us an advantage, but so many things could go wrong. Muggles could find us, or the Ministry could, and I'm not sure which is worse."

"Alright, well, we don't have to decide anything yet. Let's just see about these properties this weekend."

Two days later brought a very unwelcome Monday. Ginny liked her job and she had never complained about not having to be at the office until nine in the morning, but this morning just seemed to be especially bothersome. Ti was being worrisomely subdued, most likely still worried about Thom.

Ginny was nervous because even though they had found a darling four bedroom house they wanted, they were told they couldn't move in for another month. Ginny rolled her eyes, remembering how she had protested. Seeing that the owners wouldn't budge, she had whipped out her chequebook and scribbled a cheque for five thousand pounds. They were told they could move in the following weekend.

Harry was filled with anxious energy about the whole Armando ordeal. They had called the police and gone down to the station to fill out a report, but the bastard had yet to be caught. Harry had finally managed to get through to someone competent at the insurance agency, and the result was a loaner car while the old car was overhauled. Most of the damage had been to the exterior, apparently.

All in all, it was a very tense pair of principals who pulled up to Yorke and Ramsay at 8:58 on Monday. Getting through work was terribly difficult, although Ginny was surprised to hear that Draco had explained the car situation to the partners.

Malfoy and his partner had been assigned some office space, since they had no connections in London. 'Well,' Ginny amended. 'No connections that were any good for getting Muggle office space with such short notice.' Walking past their desk space several times during the morning, Ginny noted that the American seemed to be in charge, constantly filling their area with a litany against Draco and his many flaws. The last straw for Ginny was when she was walking to the copy machine and heard the man refer to Malfoy as a "whiny cow."

She was unable to stifle her burst of laughter, and she immediately found herself locked in eye contact with Malfoy. Instead of turning red with fury, he cracked a smile and bowed his head, while Steve continued to berate him. Ginny continued on, thinking about Draco and her talk with Thom and the little smile she had just seen on Malfoy's face. It was all very confusing, but she wanted a chance to sort some things out.

"Malfoy," she confronted him during lunch. Harry and Malfoy's partner had gone out to the pub down the road.

"Ginny," he responded politely. Harry had warned her about this shift to first names, but it still startled her.

"Yes, er-" she suddenly realized that she had absolutely nothing to say. "That is, what are you doing here?"

Draco looked puzzled. "I'm not sure what you mean. Did Harry tell you everything we've talked about?"

"Yes," Ginny said, flushing for reasons she didn't understand. 'When did he get so bloody tan?' she wondered. "He did tell me everything, but I just don't get it. Who are you and what have you done with Draco Malfoy and so on." The words just kept tumbling out, she screamed at herself to stop, but it seemed as if the damage had already been done. Draco looked amused.

"That is a very complicated question," he said. "I suppose you could say that a lot of bad things befell me, and I realized I needed to get my head out of my arse and start thinking." Ginny blinked rapidly, admiring him for being so cool and collected all the time.

"Unfortunately," Draco continued. "I promised Steve that I'd take care of some stuff for him before he got back, so I can't really go into detail here."

"Come for dinner," Ginny blurted. There was a moment of silence that stretched into awkwardness as both considered what she had done. Ginny was horrified. 'Yes, you're curious,' she scolded herself. 'But this is terribly forward, and even a little tarty.' She was just about to open her mouth and ask him to forgive her when he smiled again.

"Alright, then," he said. "Just tell me when and where."

Numbly, Ginny gave him the address of the new house and told him to come on Sunday evening. That smile intoxicated her; its honesty surprised her every time she saw it. 'What the hell am I going to tell Harry?' she wondered after he had gone. 'What the hell was I thinking?'

**AN: Sorry it's short, but I'm so tired right now. Is this making sense to everyone so far? Because sometimes I think that I'm totally raving mad and my plot is a complete mystery, even to me. But then I read your reviews, which are still lovely, and hope is restored. I love you all, in a very non-predatorial way.**


	11. She Screams

**AN: I am terrified of airplanes. I don't know how I have the state of mind to be writing this as I'm in the air, but I guess the power of fanfiction can't be denied. Someone kind of asked how Hermione/Percy link into the Draco/Ginny/Harry line, which made ME start thinking about it, even though I should already know ;) So hopefully, this chapter will answer that question for us; I have to admit, as of right now I'm not really sure.**

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Chapter Eleven: She Screams

Hermione was humming as she did the laundry. Percy had been over again yesterday afternoon, bringing her a new book on Werewolf treaties. His department at the ministry continued to plan out the eventual delegation to the werewolf colony, and a leader had not yet been designated. Hermione knew that Percy could easily secure it for himself; whether he would or not was the question.

'Do I want him to go?' Hermione asked herself. 'Well, this is such a great opportunity, to lead a peacekeeping mission. And it would be doing great good for the wizarding world. And yet,' Hermione sighed over a pair of Ron's socks. 'No, I don't want him to leave me. I feel like I'm just getting back some feeling, ad I don't want to lose that.'

She looked at the book resting on the kitchen counter. A History of Werewolvian Policymaking, by Wulferic Straust. It was very thoughtful of Percy to bring it around, she knew, and she tried to remember the last time Ron had gotten her such a wonderful present. Or any present, for that matter.

Never.

In the beginning, she had attributed it to his forgetfulness. When he forgot her birthday, she just laughed over it and didn't think much of it. The same when for their anniversary. Hermione had even anticipated his mistake and had set up plans for them. This went on for a year or two before Hermione began to feel somewhat slighted. After all, she _did_ write these things on the calendar, which he seemed to read.

'Percy wouldn't forget,' she thought. It had been a week since he had first come to the house, and he had made a habit of spending his lunch hours with her. Hermione knew that this was risky, but so far, they had refrained from any physical contact. If Ron, or someone else, were to pop by, they would see nothing more unseemly than Hermione having tea and a biscuit with her husband's brother.

They didn't even speak of anything romantic, not really. Ministry happenings, developments in international wizarding policies, and new advancements in Charms were their favorite fodder for conversation. Percy was the only person who knew that had Hermione had her way, she would have started a career in Charms. Ever since that first lesson with _Wingardium Leviosa_, Hermione had fallen in love with the field.

The clock chimed two, and Hermione hurried to finish folding the clothes. In ten minutes exactly, Percy would arrive, and she needed to put the kettle on.

No sooner had she finished setting biscuits and finger sandwiches on a plate, the sound of Apparation signaled Percy's arrival. He came through the front door and greeted her with a brief embrace and a kiss on the cheek. They made small talk while Hermione set the table before settling down for their daily chat.

"Hermione," Percy's voice grew more serious. "I feel as if we've been avoiding discussing a certain subject." Hermione nodded, waiting for him to continue. "I'm not sure what you want out of our relationship, and I've been trying to give you some space."

"I know, Percy, and believe me, I appreciate it," Hermione said smoothly. "I'm really not sure. You must know that I certainly care for you and Ron-" she swallowed, willing herself not to cry. Percy reached over and covered her trembling hands with his. "I never wanted to have an affair, and I never wanted to suffer through a divorce," she chuckled dryly. "The worst part of this whole fiasco is having to admit I was wrong – _so wrong­_ – about one of the biggest decisions of my life."

"Love," Percy made her look at him. "You never knew. Ronald has completely changed from the person everyone knew all those years ago. You may have made a mistake, but there's no reason to stay here and punish yourself for it. That would be a true error."

And as difficult as it was for Hermione to accept it, she knew that he was right. 'Two wrongs do not make a right,' she admonished herself. Sucking in her cheeks, she nodded. "I know you're right. What I don't know is how these things are approached in the Wizarding world."

"It's actually surprisingly simple, in some ways," Percy responded. "In your case, since the decision most likely won't be mutual, you will go to the Ministry, to the Department of Marriages. You file a request for separation, and when your partner signs, the union is stricken from the records."

"Ron will never agree to this," Hermione said. "And quite frankly, I'm afraid to bring it up."

"It's alright, love. In these circumstances, you can submit memories through a Pensieve to demonstrate that it's dangerous for you to return home. If it seems as if it truly would put you in harm's way, they won't make you return to your spouse."

"Right," Hermione breathed out. "I really could do it." Percy nodded, and they spent a moment in silence. "Percy," she spoke uncertainly. "If I can't come back here, where would I go? More importantly, where does that put us?"

"Unfortunately, you aren't allowed to be in any other relationships while the divorce is being settled," Percy said. "So we couldn't be together as-" here he turned adorably red, "er, lovers, or anything of that sort." Hermione nodded her understanding.

"Well, it's still a big decision," she said. "As much as it seems like the obvious course of action, there are more factors to deal with. Like your family, for one." Hermione definitely did not want to think about what the Weasley matriarch would think of the annulment. Hermione and Molly had been on fairly good terms, as Hermione kept silent about the Ginny scandal.

That would end very quickly.

"Don't worry about them, love." Percy seemed ruffled, apparently he hadn't considered his mother's reaction, but he put on a brave front. "You just let me worry about them; the boys probably won't give you any trouble and we'll deal with Mother when the time comes."

"Speaking of time, you've got to go," Hermione chided him, standing with the dishes. "It's almost half past three, you'll be late!" He grinned up at her from his seat and she felt that familiar tingle in her lower belly. He was so sweet, so caring, so much of everything she wanted, so much of everything Ron wasn't. He gave her a quick kiss on the lips and bid her farewell before leaving.

Hermione had just come back to the table after putting Percy and her cups in the sink, when she heard a second crack. 'Did Percy forget something?' was all she had time to ask herself before the front door opened.

It wasn't Percy, it was Ron.

He didn't greet her as he breezed through the door, but he dropped his coat and briefcase on the floor in the foyer and headed into the bedroom. Without a word, Hermione picked up his coat, hanging it in the hall closet before retrieving the cast off briefcase and setting it on the table. 'The table!' she thought in a sudden panic. 'All the dishes and the tea are still out!' She tried to collect everything all at once, but it was too late.

Ron strolled out of the bedroom, changed into more casual clothes, and froze at the sight of the biscuit tray and the two dishes.

"Had someone over for tea?" he asked suspiciously.

"Yes, and it was lovely," Hermione responded, inwardly panicking as she carried her burden into the kitchen. She hoped to have a moment to come up with a story, but Ron followed her.

"Who did you have over? I didn't know you had friends." Surprisingly, his last sentence wasn't meant to be cruel, it was just typical Ron tact, or lack thereof.

"It was Percy." Hermione gave up trying to think of a lie, perhaps Ron wouldn't think too much of it.

"Percy?" Ron's low growl sank her hopes. "As in, my brother, Percy?"

"Yes," Hermione said.

She was unprepared for what happened next. She had been scrubbing a teacup by hand, not making eye contact with her husband, when she felt a mighty yank on her ponytail. With a yelp, she dropped the cup, which smashed on the kitchen floor. Ron's hand clenched tightly in her curly hair, and her eyes watered from the sharp pain.

"Ron, what are you doing?" she gasped. "Let me go!"

Wordlessly, he began to drag her out of the kitchen, but then he stopped short. She heard him grab something, but she couldn't see what it was because he was keeping her head tilted at an awkward angle. They kept moving, her terror mounting, and finally ended in the bedroom. With a grunt, Ron threw her onto the bed and locked the door with his wand. Hermione gave out a pained shriek as some of her hair remained tangled in Ron's fingers and ripped out when she fell.

"Ron, what's going on?" she cried. Ron had never been so physical with her before, and her instincts told her what was going to happen. She had never been so scared in her life.

"What's this rubbish?" Ron spat, throwing something hard at her. It hit her in the stomach, and she doubled over, gasping from the pain. With trembling hands, she picked up the book Percy had given her.

"A book on-" that was as far as she got before Ron threw himself down in front of her and grabbed her face in a vice-like grip.

"I know what it says, I'm not _stupid_," he snarled, only centimeters from her face. "Where did it come from? Did you go out?"

"No! No!" she cried, tears streaming down her face. Ron's hands moved to the base of her neck and he shook her like a rag doll.

"Did that _bastard_ bring it to you?" he roared. Hermione didn't have to ask who the bastard was.

"Yes! I'm sorry, yes!" she screamed, struggling to pry his hands off of her bruising neck. The hands tightened spastically, choking her badly, then released her. She collapsed back onto the bed, gasping and quivering, before she heard it.

The sound of a zipper being undone.

"You think you can get away with embarrassing me?" Ron whispered, disrobing. "Just because you're supposed to be so bloody smart, you think you can make a fool out of me?"

"No, Ron, it's not like that at all!"

"Lying bitch," he said calmly, which scared Hermione even more. With a flick of his wand, he divested her of her clothing, and she screamed.

"Shut up!" he said furiously, hitting her across the face. "You're my wife, and this is what wives do!"

He raped her, then. With every stroke, Hermione sobbed and thought of Percy. When Ron had finished and left her lying broken and soiled on the bed, Hermione dug deep down. She dug through the layers of fear and submissiveness that Ron had forced on her throughout the years, and she found a flicker of what used to be the old Hermione. That flicker told her what she was going to do.

She was going to get that divorce, damnit. Ron could bloody well go to Hell.

The hours passed, and the only thing going through Hermione's mind was the thought that she needed a divorce. She was suddenly struck by another wave of sorrow, thinking of what Harry would have done. 'Harry would help me,' she thought. 'Harry would never have let Ron turn into this monster.' She missed her best friend more than she ever had.

Hermione had never once tried owling Ginny and Harry. She understood why Ginny had gone, and she was the only one who had been privy to Harry and Ron's great falling out.

_"Ron, we've been friends for a long time, and I just want to ask you about something."_

_"Sure, mate," Ron laughed. "If you can't talk to someone about anything after fighting You-Know-Who and stuff, I guess you never can."_

_"Right," Harry had smiled weakly. "Well, Ron, I want you to know that what I'm going to tell you doesn't change our friendship, and I'd really like if we could remain friends."  
Hermione's ears perked up. Harry didn't know she was home, and he had never asked, so of course Ron hadn't told him. The two men were in the living room, while Hermione was in the bedroom, but she could hear everything perfectly._

_"So, are you going to get on with it, or d'you want to keep being a ponce?" Ron joked. There was a moment of silence._

_"Ron, I'd appreciate if you didn't say words like 'ponce' or 'fag' anymore," Harry said. "Because I-I've realized that I'm gay." _

_Hermione's eyes widened. Moments of their childhood flashed through her mind; the signs had surely been there. She felt nothing about Harry's confession other than surprise. Ron, however, was a completely different story._

_"You're-you're what?" the redhead sputtered. "Gay?"_

_"Yes."_

_"Get out of my house!"_

_Neither Harry nor Hermione had been prepared for this. The sound of utter fury in Ron's voice was unbelievable._

_"Ron, are you mental?" Harry yelled, exploding right back. "I've been your best mate for years, we fucking killed Voldemort together, and now you're getting your knickers in a twist because I'm-"_

_"You're a feak," Ron yelled. "Unnatural. It's disgusting, I don't want you trying to rape me. Oh god," he choked. "You've seen me in my boxers loads of times. This is sick, Harry, just sick! Get the fuck away from me!"_

_And just like that, ten years of friendship had ended. As Harry stormed out, Hermione had sat in bewilderment. What had just happened?_

_She knew what she had to do. Ronald would never keep this a secret, and homosexuality in the wizarding world was a curse. As terrible as Ron's sentiments were, he was hardly alone in that respect. In her opinion, Ron had wronged Harry, and wronged him horribly. She couldn't take that away, but she could try to make it into less of a problem._

_That night, while Ron was sleeping, she Obliviated the incident from his mind. When he woke in the morning, she discovered that he was still angry about the subject of Harry, but he didn't know why. While it wasn't perfect, it was serviceable, and Hermione felt better about having protected the boy who had so often protected her._

Hermione had never tried to contact Ginny and Harry because she honestly believed that they were better off wherever they were. Both were clever and resourceful, and Harry had experience living like a Muggle. They would survive, she knew, and since they had not responded to any other attempts to contact them, she assumed they would do no differently with her.

However, now Hermione needed Harry, and even Ginny. She had no guarantee that they would choose to respond, but she decided to risk it. She wrote a letter of what she had done to Ron, how Ron had changed, her situation with Percy, and her plans to file for a divorce. She wrote for a very long time, pages and pages of updates about the Weasley family and the wizarding world. Finally, she finished and called for her owl. After sealing the envelope, she decided to add one more thing to the missive.

On the back of the envelope, she wrote _I know you won't want to, but I beg you on our friendship, past and present, to at least read this. You know I wouldn't send this if it weren't important._

She sent the letter, then pulled a nightdress on and crawled back into the dirty bed. She closed her eyes and tried to pretend she was asleep when she felt Ron climb in beside her. Inside her head, she couldn't stop screaming in horror, disgust, and anguish.

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**AN: That made me kind of sad. So things are starting to come together, but the biggest piece missing is Neville. Don't worry, Neville will probably become a major player in the next Hermione scene. And FYI, there will be no slash. Maybe kissing, but nothing graphic. It's not that I don't believe in gay sex, it's just that I've never had gay sex, so I don't really know how to describe it, and I don't want to make a mess of it.**


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